A Familiar Face
by FinallShadoww
Summary: AU in which the Amazing Spider-Man crosses paths with the Avengers, setting in stone a series of events which will change the lives of everyone - for better or for worse. Black holes, memory data and time travel soon ensues. (Slow build-up, MCU.)
1. Captain America

Officially adopted by **FinallShadoww** as of January, 2016.

 _The first chapter officially written by myself will be Chapter 11, meaning chapters 1-10 are all the work of **consultingsorcererof221B.** The time travel featured further into the story was also an entirely new plot idea by me, FinallShadoww. __Thanks for your time and support!_

 _:::_

 _A Familiar Face_

Steve Rogers wasn't used to modern day New York. Oh, he was used to violence in general. He'd spent enough time on the battlefield in his day... But the crime that was considered a normal part of life was something else entirely. Everybody in the city seemed to look the other way.

So when he heard the scream his first instinct was to race towards the source of the noise. Steve ran faster than any normal man was capable. He reached a turn, twisted before he hit a building and kicked off without losing any momentum. When he reached the scene of the commotion he found a man holding a knife to the throat of a young girl. His face was buried in his long, dirty blonde hair but Steve could see it was a white male, probably in his early thirties.

"You called?" a voice asked. Steve struggled to keep up with what happened next.

Evident relief washed over the woman's face while the man adopted a look of panic.

"Stay out of this, Spider," he warned and tightened his grip on the knife until his knuckles turned white. Steve followed his gaze and looked up to see a man in a full body red and blue suit sitting casually on the fire escape.

"Fine, let go of the girl and then we talk," he continued. His masked face turned fractionally in Steve's direction but he seemed to decide to focus on the man holding the knife.

The man seemed to hesitate, his hold on the knife loosening ever so slightly as he thought over his options. He licked his lips nervously and stared up at the man in the red and blue suit.

"I-I…I don't believe you," he said and shook his head quickly.

Steve would have said it was impossible for anybody to react as quickly as the man in red and blue.

When the man holding the knife shook his head for a split second he closed his eyes and the knife lowered away from the woman's throat. By the time Steve processed the man's subtle mistake the knife was attached to the side of a building with what looked like some sort of…web?

The knife-man had only just registered that his weapon was gone when the man in the red and blue suit crashed into him. No, crashed was the wrong word. It implied that the vigilante wasn't completely in control of the situation.

The man in the red and blue suit propelled himself towards the ground and twisted in mid-air to completely avoid the victim of the attack. When he hit the knife-man, he was perfectly angled. The man in the red and blue suit hit the knife-man and kicked away from him on impact so while the would-be-attacker stumbled backwards the man in the red and blue suit was performing a perfect somersault.

The knife-man hit the building and a bolt of the strange web-like substance secured him to the wall.

"Thank you, Spider-Man. Thank you so much," the woman said breathlessly. The man waved it off like it was nothing and bent down to pick something up off the ground. When he stood up Steve saw he was holding a handbag.

"This is yours I assume?" he asked. The woman nodded and he handed it to her. She pulled out her mobile and was dialling as she walked out of the side street, she didn't even notice Steve.

The man in the red and blue suit suddenly seemed sinister as he turned his attention back to the man secured to the wall. He reached forwards and pulled the sleeve of the man's jacket down to reveal a pale, bare wrist.

"It's your lucky day, apparently not mine," the man muttered as he turned away from the attacker.

Steve watched in a mixture of confusion and admiration as the man latched onto the side of a building and began to climb, effortlessly pulling himself ever higher while he seemingly defied physics by gripping the flat surface with his fingertips.

Steve stood for a moment then heard sirens in the distance and walked back the way he'd come, too deep in thought to really take in anything around him. What was it the woman had called him? Maybe he could search him on the…internet? Wasn't that what normal people did?

Steve unlocked the door to his apartment, almost working on autopilot, and sat down in his favourite armchair. It was old fashioned, a little shabby maybe but still good. He reached across the table next to him and picked up his sketchbook without thinking. The image was still fresh in his mind, red and blue with a criss-crossing black…web spread across the entire costume. Then on his back the clear red image against the blue.

Then he remembered what the woman had called him.

Spider-Man.

 _:::_

Please R/R.

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcererof221B**


	2. Hawkeye

_A Familiar Face_

 **Hawkeye:**

Clint was many things and happy was not one of them.

For starters he was tired…and by that I mean most people would have collapsed from exhaustion by now. But of course, Clint was no ordinary person. He was an agent of SHIELD, a top rate marksman and a master assassin. At some point in his not too distant future he will fight alongside Earth's Mightiest Heroes and help save the world from the alien threat known as the Chitauri but that is a very different story. One I would imagine most of you know off by heart.

So back to _this_ story, Clint had every right to be tired. He'd been up for twenty six hours straight and he would vouch for me when I say that it had been a very _long_ twenty six hours. A terrorist group had somehow managed to get hold of a few top secret diagrams from the SHIELD database. So of course Director Fury had called Clint and told him to get it back, whatever the cost.

Now Clint wasn't naïve enough to expect a welcome back party or even a thank you when he returned from the mission with the plans in his hand and a civilian casualty count of zero. What he did expect was the night off so he could go and crash in some rundown motel for a few hours.

Instead he was told to immediately head to the loading bay where they would get him up to date on the latest catastrophe threatening the city. When he arrived he discovered that there was in fact a giant mutant lizard trying to release some sort of toxin that turned everybody effected into, you guessed it, giant mutant lizards.

You can imagine his relief when they arrived and discovered that a mysterious super-powered vigilante had put a stop to it first. Sure, Fury was pissed off that nobody seemed to know anything about the guy but Clint felt like he could hug the masked man. So what if he liked stringing up criminals for the cops to arrest?

Clint whistled as he walked down the empty street without a care in the world. The motel was around two minutes away, two minutes and he'd be able to get some well-earned rest.

He stopped abruptly when he heard the hiss of pain coming from somewhere on his right. Clint hesitated, it could just be some homeless person that stubbed their toe or something. There was nothing to say that anybody was seriously injured. He should just keep going, they'd be fine.

 _Drip_

Clint froze and turned towards the alley. The street light behind him lit up the concrete beneath his feet, illuminating the dark red smears.

 _Drip_

His eyes followed the fresh trail, across the ground, up that wall and all the way to the red and blue figure clinging to the brick wall with his fingertips.

 _Drip_

The drop of blood fell from the masked figure and landed in the growing puddle on the ground.

"You gonna call the cops?" he stuttered through ragged breaths. Clint thought about that for a moment before he let out a sigh.

 _Drip_

"Nah, did the lizard do that to you?" Clint asked and pulled the bag from over his shoulder.

"Mostly…bullet wound in my leg was the cops," he groaned. His grip faltered for a moment and he slid several inches down the wall, dragging smears of blood across the brick.

 _Drip, Drip, Drip_

"Can you get down?" Clint asked carefully.

"I-I think so…why?" the man asked.

"I can stitch up and bandage a few of your wounds. You're lucky you caught me when you did," Clint explained and pulled out a first aid kit. Spider-Man carefully climbed down the wall, doing his best not to cry out every time he moved. When he got down to street level Clint realised how injured he really was. His mask was practically the only part of his costume that seemed fully intact.

Clint whistled through his teeth, "I guess he really threw you around the place."

"Yeah well, I got a few good shots in myself," he grunted.

He didn't say much else as Clint did his best to sew up the bullet wound. The man winced slightly every time the needle pierced his skin but he didn't complain. Fortunately the bullet passed straight through his leg, narrowly missing bone.

After that Clint did his best to remove all of the fragments of plastic and metal that were imbedded in the man's wrists. Once again not a complaint was heard.

When Clint was finished he packed up the first aid kit and Spider-Man just sat on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His ribs weren't broken but a few of them were cracked, Clint could empathise.

"Why did you help me?" Spider-Man finally asked. Clint pondered that for a moment.

"Gratitude," he finally answered.

 _:::_

 _R/R_

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcererof221B.**


	3. Coulson

_A Familiar Face_

 **Coulson:**

Peter knew it wasn't an accident or a mistake the moment he stepped inside the bank vault. Instead of the armed robbers he'd expected, there waiting for him was a man in a nice suit with a metal briefcase in his hand. It was a set up. Peter spun around in time to see the vault slam shut behind him, sealing off his exit.

"Hello, Spider-Man. My name is Agent Coulson," the man at the other end of the room said calmly. There was an oddly…cheerful note in his voice. Not in the 'I just kidnapped my arch enemy and now I'm going to murder him' kind of way. It was more of the 'I just heard a great song on the radio' kind of way.

Peter turned slowly, eyes taking in every inch of the room. The faint ringing in his ear told him to be cautious but he wasn't in any immediate danger.

"I'm gonna assume you're not a bank robber then," Peter said flatly. The man, Agent Coulson, cracked a smile.

"Not exactly, I apologise for going to such extremes but you're not an easy man to pin down," Coulson said as if they'd known each other for years.

"What do you want?" Peter asked. The casual atmosphere was putting him on edge.

"I'm here on behalf of a government agency called SHIELD. I doubt you've heard of us but we take care of the…more unusual threats," he explained.

"Threats…You think I'm a threat? I mean yeah technically speaking I work outside of the law but I thought this whole thing was sorted out. I got a legal pardon and the cops aren't allowed to shoot me on sight anymore and all of that good stuff!" Peter said, pushing down the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"If we thought you were a threat we would have put more effort into finding you. As it is, we thought you'd react better if we let you make your own decision," Coulson replied as if that answered everything.

"Uh huh," Peter said and rolled his eyes beneath his mask. Was the man drawing their conversation out on purpose?

"We want you to come and work with us."

Wait…What?

"You want me to work for you…What, you got an unexpected job opening and you just thought  
 _Hey, why don't we ask the local vigilante_? Seriously? I was the best you could come up with?" Peter asked, thankful that his mask hid his no doubt perplexed expression.

"A man stole an energy source capable of cracking this world open like a hardboiled egg," Coulson said without skipping a beat. THAT got Peter's attention. He paused before replying carefully.

"What do you mean exactly by work?" he asked slowly.

"We have people working on tracking him down, we just need more man power. The man has certain…abilities. Strength and durability to name a few, should you agree we'll fill in all of the details," Coulson continued. He stayed calm, he didn't jump at the fact that Peter was considering their proposal.

"And what would I have to…do?" Peter continued. His spidey sense told him he could trust this Coulson guy but that was no reason to proceed without caution.

"Well…You'd have to reveal your identity to us fo-"

"No," Peter said immediately.

"We're a top secret government agency. We're capable of keeping secrets-"

"No."

"We could-"

"No."

"Try to understand that we can't just-"

"If I have to reveal who I really am I want no part in this," Peter replied flatly.

"Even if it puts our whole world at risk?" Coulson asked. He wasn't challenging, his voice didn't even waver. He was still completely calm as if discussing the fate of the world was normal…Then again…

"You said you had other people working on it. I'm sure they're more qualified than I am to catch this nut job," Peter said firmly.

"We're asking everybody we can to help us catch this guy before the situation escalates."

"If you've got others on this then why do you need me?!"

Coulson paused for a moment and Peter waited for him to make a move. He waited for an army to barge in with tranquilisers or for the man to pull out a gun…but nothing happened. The man seemed disappointed if anything.

"I can see that this isn't going to work," Coulson said almost…sadly? As if by some unspoken command the vault door opened but there was nobody waiting for him outside, just the empty bank.

Peter edged forward but hesitated.

"I'm sorry…There are people close to me that could get hurt. If something happened to them because of what I do…" Peter shuddered at the thought of someone trying to get to him through Aunt May or Gwen or any of the other people he interacted with on a daily basis. If his secret got out they'd all be at risk. He couldn't let the people around him pay for his actions.

"It's clear that you're doing this for the right reasons. That's one of the reasons we're keeping our distance. We've made an effort to avoid getting on your bad side," Coulson said. Peter wasn't entirely sure what to make of that statement.

"My point is so long as you keep on our good side, we'll keep on yours. Keep being one of the good guys and we'll have to reason to get involved…If you change your mind about working with us, get in touch. You'd be a valuable asset," Coulson said with a note of finality in his voice.

The man walked straight past Peter without even glancing at him and left the suddenly empty bank vault. Confused, Peter thought over what he'd said. Get in touch? How was he supposed to-

Lying on the floor of the vault in the exact spot Coulson had been standing was the metal briefcase.

Oh.

Peter cautiously approached the case but it seemed pretty harmless. It didn't appear to have built in lasers or anything like that. He stood there for a moment, unwilling to interact with the object left by the mysterious agent of SHIELD but in the end his curiosity got the best of him.

He found it didn't have any fancy security measures in place, just a simple latch. When he opened it he found, lying there in the middle of the case, a business card.

 _Simon's Car, Rent and Repair_

There was a logo and a number at the bottom. Peter flipped it over in his hands and found an address printed on the back along with the words 'We're Open 24/7!'

And I thought this day couldn't get any weirder.

:::

 _R/R. Remember to give suggestions as to who you would like Peter to meet next. Thank you._

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcererof221B**


	4. Hulk

_A Familiar Face_

 _A/N: This chapter is set one week after the Avengers film, though long before the events of The Amazing Spider-Man 2._

 **Hulk:**

I suppose you could say that Bruce was having one of _those_ days. The ones that make you feel like the world is screwing with you for the sake of pissing you off.

His day started off alright. He woke up at exactly five am. He did his breathing exercises, as always he focused on the techniques used to slow the heart rate and that lasted for maybe an hour. After that he got showered and dressed…the god of good fortune must have left for a coffee break at that point though because that's when things started going wrong. Long story short the robot that normally sorts out all of Tony's food had a bit of a malfunction so Bruce accidentally poured sour milk into his cereal. Once he'd finished scraping the fowl smelling clumps into the bin (he came close to throwing up at that point) he had to wait almost twenty minutes before he felt like he could stomach something without it coming right back up.

Still, he told himself. It could be worse.

Of course Clint had finished off the frosted flakes which left him with two choices. He could steal some of Steve's weird shredded wheat cereal that tasted like cardboard or he could go out for breakfast.

Guess what Bruce decided to do?

Bruce had to drive around for almost an hour looking for a place that was still open after 'The Invasion'. Most places had closed until they could fix the damage inflicted to the building meaning the construction companies were completely swamped with work.

According to the news it would probably take months, even years before things could begin to return to normal. A week had passed and already everybody was sick of it. Of course Bruce had lived in countries without running water, let alone supermarkets with entire isles devoted to cereal so he was doing alright.

After finding a suitable place to eat he ended up waiting for another hour just to get a table since the place was full and when he was finally served he found the food a little undercooked.

Still, he told himself. It could be worse.

He drove around for a while longer, killing time before he had to go back to the practically empty tower. Tony was taking a 'well-earned vacation' with Pepper in Greece, Natasha was on a mission, Clint was staying at the tower until an assignment came up but he spent most of his time hanging around at the SHIELD training facility so Bruce normally only saw him in the late evenings.

Then there was Steve…Bruce wasn't entirely sure what the situation with Steve was. The guy got up at the crack of dawn every morning, did a series of morning 'wake up exercises' that would leave any other man completely exhausted. Then he ate his disgustingly bland cereal and left. As far as Bruce could tell he normally went for a run at some point every day but other than that the man's daily routine was anyone's guess. He had a modest apartment that SHIELD paid for but that was about it. There wasn't a hell of a lot to the mysterious super solider.

That left Thor…Well he'd returned to his sky palace with Loki and the Tesseract and they'd heard nothing from him since. Nobody knew when he'd return…if he'd return.

Bruce's motorbike made an unhealthy gurgling noise and slowed to a crawl. It gave a rattling whine as it was steered towards the curb. He mentally cursed but forced himself to stay calm.

Still, he told himself. It could be worse.

He moved to pull out the Stark Phone Tony had insisted on giving him but after years of avoiding phones, if absolutely necessary keeping one in his possession for no more than a few days…It wasn't a habit he could easily drop. Worse still the sky line was threatening to swallow the sun completely, leaving him in the darkness of night while stranded in a part of town that could be described as anything _but_ friendly.

Unwilling to leave his bike, he tried to fix it himself but it soon became clear that he didn't have the necessary equipment. Reluctantly he came to terms with the fact that he'd probably never see his motorcycle again and started walking in the general direction of the tower. He had his wallet on him at least. Maybe he could hail a cab?

He turned onto an empty street and continued walking for maybe ten minutes, doing his best to continue heading in the same general direction of the tower but it had been years since he'd spent any time in New York. He considered turning back but he wasn't sure that he would be able to accurately retrace his steps.

Bruce turned onto a side street but found his way blocked.

Five guys, strong builds, late twenties.

Bruce turned to go back the way he'd come but tripped over something in the steadily growing shadows. He regained his footing but managed to make enough noise to alert the group that he was there.

 _Great job there, Bruce,_ he said to himself. There was an audible _shweeek_ as someone unfolded a switchblade.

"You wanna empty your pockets about now?" somebody asked. Bruce turned to face the still advancing group. One was smiling with stained teeth, knife all too comfortable in his hand. As he drew closer Bruce caught the distinctive whiff of alcohol. They weren't flat out drunk although a couple of them swayed slightly, they'd had just enough to drink that it would cloud their judgement and slow their reflexes.

Bruce was still outnumbered by people who were clearly stronger than he was. He supposed he could run but he didn't know the neighbourhood, just wandering through side streets had led him into several dead ends. If that happened while he was running for his life?

Besides, his heart rate was already faster than normal. The last thing he needed was for the other guy to make an appearance.

Bruce pulled out his wallet and tossed it towards them. Somebody picked it up and started sifting through its contents.

"No credit cards, no phone?" one of them listed in disbelief.

"That's all I have," Bruce said steadily but his heart was thumping in his chest. He _needed_ to calm down and fast.

"Now why don't we all give the guy a little space? He's looking a little green," a voice said from…above them?

Before anybody could react a flash of red and blue landed behind the man holding the knife. Suddenly the mugger found the weapon had been yanked from his hand. The red and blue blur grabbed the man's shoulders and threw him into the nearest person who had barely registered what was happening.

A man with a greyish hoodie came up behind the red and blue blur, a switchblade in hand, but when he moved to attack the man in red and blue easily sidestepped, despite the fact that there was no way he could have been able to see the attack coming.

By this point Bruce had identified the man in red and blue. After all, everybody had heard about New York's friendly neighbourhood vigilante.

Spider-Man grabbed the wrist of the man in the grey hoodie and twisted until the knife fell from his hand. Before the man could cry out the vigilante sent an elbow into his stomach. The man's eyes bulged before he collapsed. Before the man's unconscious body had hit the floor, Spider-Man had moved onto his next target.

He kicked out the legs of a man with short stubby hair and a knee to the back of the head later the man was unconscious.

Despite showing an impressive amount of strength it was clear from the beginning that he was holding back. He rendered the men unconscious with, albeit painful but recoverable injuries.

The last man came at him from behind but Spider-Man turned at the last moment and secured him to a wall with a spurt of webbing. He gripped the man's head and slammed it against the wall with precisely the right amount of force. The man reeled before collapsing completely, held partially upright by the webbing that still secured his hand in place.

It suddenly occurred to Bruce that he probably should have run while everybody was distracted.

"You alright?" Spider-Man asked as he stopped to pick something up off the ground. It wasn't until he straightened up that Bruce saw he was holding a wallet.

"Mr…Banner?" the vigilante asked after briefly glancing at the driver's license SHIELD had supplied after they gave him a new social security number. Same name, despite their recommendations, but nothing to tie him to the scientist that had supposedly died years before.

Bruce didn't say anything and instead watched as Spider-Man picked up the cash that the muggers had dropped in the fight. To his surprise, the vigilante simply sorted the notes into a neat pile and returned it to the wallet.

"Here," Spider-Man said as he held out the wallet. Bruce hesitated.

"Look I know that a lot of people have been talking about me lately, I can't tell you how many times somebody has called me a masked menace or told me that I've got no right to 'take responsibility and interfere with the fine work the NYPD do in this city'. But it's been a long week and right now all I really want to do is finish up out here tonight so please skip the criticism and take the wallet," the vigilante said with a tired sigh.

Bruce took the wallet and frowned.

"Actually I was just going to say thanks."

Spider-Man seemed genuinely surprised although it was difficult to tell since he was wearing a mask.

"Huh…I don't actually hear that word too often. _Especially_ after the whole 'alien invasion thing', a lot of people seem to think that now the Avengers are around, New York doesn't need a vigilante anymore. I guess criticism comes with the territory," the man said. Bruce got the feeling that he was smiling beneath the mask but it was impossible to tell.

"I don't suppose you know where I can hail a cab do you?" Bruce asked a little awkwardly.

"You a tourist?" Spider-Man asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Um…something like that," Bruce admitted. He wasn't entirely sure w _hat_ he was or how long he'd be staying.

"Well…You came at a pretty bad time of year but I hope you enjoy the sites. The statue of liberty and everything is fine as far as I know. Anyway, there are normally a couple of cabs hanging around a street not far from here. I can walk you there if you want. It's been a fairly slow day as these things go. Then again it'll probably pick up in a few hours. Most people wait until it's really dark before trying anything," Spider-Man explained.

So the vigilante walked him through a few side streets until they were staring at the busy road. Despite the fact that it was getting late there were plenty of cars and people walking around.

They didn't exactly strike up a conversation but Spider-Man's mood seemed to have greatly improved.

"I've got to be quick. People might start throwing eggs again or something," the vigilante muttered. Bruce glanced at him in surprise.

"People threw eggs at you?"

"Oh they tried," Spider-Man replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Before Bruce could so much as blink the vigilante had sprinted towards the road. There was an audible yell of surprise from one of the pedestrians nearby but Spider-Man paid no attention.

He effortlessly shot an impossibly perfectly angled web that latched onto the side of a building. His momentum pulled him into the air and he turned sharply, releasing the web a split second before shooting off another one.

Bruce stepped into the street and watched Spider-Man swing away, performing perfectly executed flips from time to time. As if travelling by web didn't seem difficult enough.

Bruce hailed a cab without really thinking and told the driver to take him to Stark Tower. For the rest of the journey he thought about his all in all crappy day.

Still, he told himself. It could be worse.

 _:::_

R/R guys :)

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcererof221B**


	5. Hawkeye's Return Part One:

_A Familiar Face_

 **Hawkeye's Return:**

Peter got the overwhelming sense of Deja-vu as he stood in the darkened alley, carefully watching the man in the expensive looking suit (the kind you wear with a tie, not a mask). He looked out of place amongst the things that are best not looked at too closely and the shattered bottles that littered the ground.

"So let me guess, there's not a drunk guy with a gun to some girl's head back here?" Peter stated with a sigh.

"SHIELD has requested your assistance," the man said.

The first thing Peter noticed was that the man wasn't quite up to Coulson's standards. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other after a brief moment of silence and seemed to be unsure of where to look. He wasn't experienced.

"I thought we went through this already? I don't want to give up my identity and you're all cool with leaving me alone so long as I don't give you lot a reason to step in," Peter said, carefully watching the agent's reaction. It was clear that they hadn't told him much about the situation.

"The…uh…Director Fury says it's not a long term thing. He just wanted me to inform you that he's requested a meeting at our…um…base of operations. Oh and we have a car waiting for you," the agent said with as much authority as his stuttering self could muster.

Peter raised a hidden eyebrow beneath his mask and tried to supress the laughter that threatened to spill through his lips at the thought of the nervous and uncertain man before him working for a top rate government agency.

"This 'Director Fury' wants me to get in a car that's going to drive me to an unknown location so I can have a meeting with a man I've never met concerning an unknown subject?" Peter asked. The agent shifted nervously again.

"He just wanted me to tell you that a lot of lives could be depending on this."

Peter thought through the choices set before him. He'd done some research into 'SHIELD'. There wasn't a hell of a lot to go on but he bypassed a few firewalls and read a few…let's say restricted files. He would have dug deeper but his computer simply wasn't powerful enough for him to hack into top security government files. He knew it existed, as far as he could tell everything Agent Coulson had told him was true but the extent of his knowledge ended about there.

In the end his curiosity got the best of him.

xxx

Peter felt…uncomfortable to put it lightly. He was sitting in the back of a black limo with tinted one way windows and heated leather seats. Need I remind you that he was wearing a skin tight red and blue spandex suit at the time?

Not to mention the fact that the car probably cost more than his house…

Speaking of which, he needed to sell that last batch of photographs he'd taken. If he could cover the bills that month then maybe he could finally convince Aunt May to visit a damn doctor about her heart. She'd had problems with it before but the symptoms seemed to be more prominent than before. Although she never came straight out and said it, he knew she kept putting it off partially because she couldn't spare the money.

Lately Aunt May was always either working extra shifts at the hospital or sorting through the seemingly endless pile of bills that littered the dining room table.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts when the car pulled to a stop. He gladly left the posh interior for the, slightly grimy looking, streets of New York.

Immediately there was an agent at his side, their hand inching towards the carefully concealed gun held securely in a holster on his hip. Peter had glimpsed it when the man stepped out of the limo.

When they stepped inside the clean and modern looking building two more agents melted out of the shadows. The agent from the car took the lead while the other two followed at Peter's heel.

They walked through a seemingly endless maze of hallways, at first most of them were full of people but as they continued their little adventure the number of people they came across became fewer and fewer until the hallways were void of all life and the only sounds that could be hear were their own footsteps.

Among the people they came across, most were clearly agents. From the tight but stretchy clothing that allowed free movement to the way they held themselves when they walked, the signs couldn't be clearer to someone who just so happened to have enhanced observation skills.

But amongst the crowds of trained professionals one could find the distinctive white coat of a scientist or one of the many secretaries that worked hard to maintain the complex system that processed mission reports and financials and, on occasion, they would be tasked with one of the most difficult jobs that SHIELD had to offer. They would have to try and use the overly complex coffee maker that, when used incorrectly, would ensnare unsuspecting loose sleeves and stray hairs in its merciless jaws.

On a separate note, Peter couldn't be sure but he could have sworn that he saw the original agent he'd met with breathing into a paper bag through a partially closed door.

Several key card swipes and a few passcode prompts later they were waiting for the elevator to react to their call.

To Peter's surprise, his agent escorts did not follow him inside. Instead they took a step away from the rapidly closing doors and left Peter in near silence with only the quiet hum of the elevator to keep him company…Well, that and the faint prickling like pins and needles at the base of his skull that somehow translated to the knowledge that he was being watched.

At least there wasn't any cheesy elevator music.

The doors opened and Peter hesitated for a brief moment before stepping into the brightly lit room. It was wide and long with a large screen on the back wall that showed the standard SHIELD logo. And sitting at a desk was, who he could only assume was, Director Fury.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

The man appeared to be wearing a leather jacket for one, sure it was the long kind you see the guys in the Matrix movies wearing but…it was still a leather jacket. Even more startling than that were his eyes- I mean, eye.

Even from a distance Peter could see the black tendrils peeking out from behind the eye patch. He didn't need a sixth sense to get the idea that thatwas more than just a common accident.

"We need your help," Director Fury said.

 _To be continued…_

 _:::_

 _R/R everyone. Helps a lot :)_

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcererof221B**


	6. Hawkeye's Return Part Two:

_A Familiar Face_

 **Hawkeye's Return Part 2:**

SHIELD was very into the whole 'partner' thing. In hindsight it probably encouraged new recruits to disguise their emotions around everybody, even those they trust because people who expressed hatred or even mild dislike towards one another had a nasty habit of getting paired up together. Sure it meant that you had to learn to work with anyone, even people you don't get on with.

In hindsight it was probably a good thing, at the time it was a pain in the-

Point is Clint was used to working with a partner when he went on missions. Often SHIELD paired him with people he worked well with or knew well. Sometimes of course circumstances would pair him with people he didn't get on with quite as well but for the most part Clint ended up with people he barely knew. He was okay with that.

Clint was, however, impatient to find out who he'd been paired up with this time. He could only hope that it wasn't Jeremy again. I mean sure the kid had his uses but he just wouldn't stop _fidgeting_. Last time he was on a stakeout with the guy…Well let's just say that Jeremy would have to learn to duck a little faster next time if he didn't want another arrow clipping his ear.

Clint shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear his thoughts. No matter how much time and energy he put into coming up with theories, it wouldn't give him answers. So instead he turned his thoughts to the mission.

As recent investigations had uncovered, an underground organisation had been gathering and experimenting with alien tech salvaged from the 'Battle of New York' as it had become known. Either SHIELD didn't know what the organisation had been trying to accomplish or it was above Clint's paygrade, either way he didn't know. He could only assume they'd been attempting to create weapons.

Whether or not they'd succeeded was a different matter entirely.

Anyway, the SHIELD technical department had by chance picked up an incredibly brief spike of gamma radiation. They'd cross examined the results and there was no denying that it came from Chitauri technology. Unfortunately homing into the exact position was proving difficult.

Still, at least the spike was located in the ocean. How many boats can there be out there right? This should be a piece of cake.

 _Wrong._

Take into account the fact that the 'estimated area' was over a twenty mile radius and there were fifty three confirmed vessels that could have held the Chitauri weaponry.

You understand why they called in for a little extra help yet?

Of course SHIELD had plenty of agents at their disposal but this…This was different. They needed it done quick and clean and in some cases, _quietly_.

Basically seven of the boats were either at or nearing a harbour of sorts and were preparing to unload whatever it is they had on board. Those were easier for SHIELD to take control of. They could easily have a dozen agents standing by while a small team sneak onto the boat while everybody is distracted and scan for trace signatures of gamma radiation.

 _Simple!_

The other forty six vessels out in open water however…

The idea was simple, intercept the vessels that would be docking before the night was done when they reached land and check the ones still out there before the night was over.

Simple! Yeah…except for the part where, by their calculations, only five of the forty six vessels would be docking.

Onto the plan concerning the other forty one!

SHIELD didn't want to tip off the smugglers and alert them to the fact that there would be a government official coming to investigate. There was too great a risk that they'd somehow hide or dispose of the alien tech, so a stealth mission then.

They had small aircraft that wouldn't be picked up by radar or any of the other scanners that might be on the ship and they'd fly when it got dark so nobody would see them. From there they would be lowered onto the deck with a few scanners and search the ship. If they came up empty handed then they'd call the aircraft back and leave, nobody would ever know they'd been there.

And if they found the ship…Well it wasn't exactly likely given the statistics that Clint would end up on the one vessel smuggling alien tech. Then again with his luck…Maybe he should read the protocols again just to be sure.

Clint suddenly looked up as the door to his cabin slid open. He was immediately on his feet and made a conscious effort to stand a little straighter. It wasn't every day that Director Fury made a house call.

"Agent Barton," Fury said with a nod. It was his equivalent of a greeting and Clint knew it so he returned the nod and waited.

"No doubt word has gotten around by now that SHIELD has established an alliance of sorts with the vigilante known as Spider-Man," Fury stated bluntly.

Well, yeah Clint had heard the rumours but it was one thing to overhear people in the science department trade gossip over coffee in the break room, it was another to hear the Director of SHIELD confirm those rumours in person.

"Well I heard…bits and pieces," Clint admitted and tried to resist the urge to look away. He was one of SHIELD's top agents. He could face his boss without feeling guilty.

Even if he did let his guard down and almost cost billions of people their lives while the planet fell under the control of an alien race-

Not his fault. He could do this.

To his surprise Fury gave a sort of half-hearted chuckle.

"With the amount of spies we have working for us I think it'd be a cause for concern if word didn't get around."

Clint felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile. It was quickly replaced by a confused frown.

"Spider-Man will be working with you when you go to search some of the boats tonight," Fury said. His expression did not change in the slightest. If he was amused by Clint's reaction there was no way of knowing it.

"But sir-" Clint began.

"This isn't up for discussion Agent Barton," Fury said firmly. Clint paused for a moment to compose himself. When he nodded stiffly his face was a void of emotion.

"Will I receive a profile report before meeting him?" Clint asked calmly. Fury seemed to consider that for a moment, or perhaps it was a well concealed hesitation. You could never tell with spies.

"All information on Spider-Man is classified. Remember, you're boarding aircraft nine at 1900. Don't be late," Fury said before exiting swiftly.

Clint exhaled slowly then sat down again on the edge of his bed.

He was going to be working with Spider-Man, the New York vigilante…or at least the most popular one. The 'Devil of Hell's Kitchen' was still fairly low key all things considering.

Sure, Clint had been paired up with people who were basically strangers before but this was _different_. All SHIELD agents had the same basic story. Sure the beginning varied a little bit but after you join the Academy original stories become less and less common. There's training, tests, training, betrayal, training, practice runs, training, a few double crosses, tests, training and more betrayal. SHIELD never liked making it easy to trust anybody, even in the early years.

Sure there were always exceptions, like Natasha. People who never went to the Academy, but they all trained somewhere and deep down all training facilities are the same.

But this guy…he was _different_. Sure he had the training but he also had mysterious superhuman powers that nobody could explain. Of course that was becoming more and more common but the difference with Spider-Man was nobody _knew anything._

Let's say, for instance, the guy had trained as an assassin like hundreds before him. Maybe the people teaching him saw potential or maybe they picked names out of a hat, for whatever reason they decide to use him in one of their whack job experiments and give their little protégé all the abilities of a spider.

What happens then? What would make a guy go from that to a vigilante? Why was he so reluctant to leave a body count if he trained as an assassin?

It didn't make any sense.

So maybe he was a civilian, maybe he was abducted or maybe he volunteered for money. For whatever reason he became the subject of an experimental program and boom, he's got all the abilities of a spider.

Where did he get his training? Did they train him? Were the people running the experiments trying to create a weapon but it didn't work out and he ran for it? Nah, that didn't make any sense. If he ran for it he'd be trying to lay low…but even if he wrecked the place and killed all the people involved in the experiments, why would he become a vigilante that deals with petty theft?

Unless his identity had something to do with it…

If SHIELD knew anything concerning Spider-Man's identity then it was above his paygrade and therefor none of his business. He found it hard to believe that they wouldn't run background checks on someone like the vigilante but then again…From what Clint had heard the man never left a body count, the petty criminals he'd intercepted were normally found tied up outside of the precinct. That could have earned him a few points.

That and the fact that the public practically swooned over him, SHIELD could definitely benefit from being allied with such a publicly influential figure. If Spider-Man somehow implied that them going behind his back and uncovering his identity would jeopardise that alliance…

Maybe the idea was more plausible than he'd previously thought.

 _:::_

 _R/R and you'll forever be in my heart._

 **Chapter originally written by the awesome consultingsorcererof221B**


	7. Hawkeye's Return Part Three:

_A Familiar Face_

 **Return of Hawkeye Pt. 3**

The plane journey was…to be honest it was kind of awkward. They sat in silence while Peter coaxed himself into unclenching his fists. He found the whole aircraft thing a little unsettling…Actually he hadn't been on a plane in…oh ten years give or take? Yeah having your parents die in a plane crash at a young age will kind of ruin the experience for you.

The mission – the word still made him feel like a kid pretending to be James Bond – seemed fairly straight forward although he knew better than most that things that seem simple in theory can get very complicated in practice.

Replacing a toxin with an antidote before a machine releases said toxin in the form of a gas that will then infect everybody in New York City, for example. It doesn't sound that complicated but throw in a few complications…Oh let's just say a giant mutant lizard, a few dozen armed cops and a time limit…

Point is Peter knew that the 'mission' could get complicated.

He made the conscious effort not to move his head when he glanced at 'Clint'. It was weird having a name to match the face. It had been…how many months since he'd fought the lizard? How long since a random stranger had found him bleeding out in a side street? How long since the stranger patched up his wounds with all the practice and calmness of a doctor?

If Clint remembered the incident then he hid it unbelievably well. Of course, the man was apparently a super spy, an assassin. If Peter didn't have faith in his 'spidey sense' (as he'd taken to calling it) he'd say that the man could probably kill him in the blink of an eye.

There was no reason to think that just because Clint saved his life once, he should trust the guy for a _second_.

But Peter couldn't shake the nagging thought in the back of his head.

 _If you can't trust an Avenger then who can you trust?_

Ah yes, the whole Avenger thing. To be honest he thought the archer looked familiar when they showed a slightly blurry video of the guy – Clint – walking away with the rest of the Avengers on the news. But believe it or not, when you're bleeding out on the sidewalk it makes the details a little hazy! Yes so matching a blurred memory of a guy to the distant image of another guy in the background of a blurry video (especially when you're not expecting to recognise the guy in the video) is not an easy thing to do.

Around ten minutes or so of flying in silence later, Clint finally spoke up.

"You know how to swim right?"

Peter looked over in surprise. The archer's expression hadn't change in the slightest but he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"Not exactly what you'd call a professional but I'm not gonna drown in a swimming pool or anything if that's what you mean. Why? You're not plotting to throw me out of the plane are you?" Peter replied with a joking calmness he did not feel. Clint smiled slightly and shook his head.

"Nah…it's just that they say you can do everything a spider can. I wanted to see if you also had the weakness towards water," he explained then shook his head again. "We are about to launch an investigation on a _boat_ after all. Last thing I want is for us to end up overboard just in time for me to discover that you can't swim."

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Yeah, that would suck, for me especially. Also if we _do_ go overboard I would like to make it clear that I will proceed under the assumption that your SHIELD training included a swim class of some description…in other words you're on your own," Peter added. Joking around, finally something he had experience with.

Clint raised both hands in a mock surrender.

"And I would like to make it clear that, if at some point you end up with an arrow through something important, you can't sue me. It was in the contract that you…probably didn't sign but are bound by anyway because you agreed to go on this mission."

There was a brief silence in which neither really knew what to say but they'd already broken the ice. Starting up a new conversation should be as simple as-

"When we land on the boat we'll be searching one floor at a time. We have two scanners but, while it may be faster for us to split up, we should stick together in case anything…unexpected happens. Try and stay out of sight as much as possible and if it turns out that this _is_ the boat loaded with the tech, contact the plane immediately and get out. SHIELD will make the necessary arrangements," Clint said quickly and pulled his bow from his back, unfolding it with an audible _snap_.

Before Peter could ask what he was doing the pilot supplied an answer over the speaker.

"Target is in sight, please prepare for landing."

Peter stood up but felt awkward doing nothing since Clint seemed to be methodically checking all of his supplies so Peter pulled up his gloves and pretended to check over his fully functional web shooters.

God he felt unsteady, you'd think somebody who could climb walls wouldn't have a problem with standing up straight in a (all things considered) pretty smooth aircraft. He told himself that he was just nervous about the mission but the truth he refused to accept was he'd been in worse situations. Deep down he didn't fear the mission or the fact that he was working with a top secret government agency.

It was the plane.

 _"I wanna come with you," Peter said in a small voice._

 _"I know, son," his father replied with a forced smile. A hand ruffled his hair but Peter didn't complain. He just wanted to know why he wasn't allowed to go with them. Was it his fault? Should he have not told his dad about the broken door in the study? His father did seem worried when he saw all the scattered papers. Then he pulled out the drawer and popped out the false bottom like in one of the spy films Peter liked to watch with his mom._

 _Maybe he was just staying with Auntie May and Uncle Ben while his mom and dad cleaned up the study? It was veeery messy in there when his dad told him to go and pack his things. Peter wasn't allowed in the study very much but sometimes his dad would let him inside and they'd play games on the computer. Or sometimes his dad would put all of the big thick folders in the desk drawers and they'd play cards on the desk. His dad had taught him to play things like Solitaire and Hearts and Go Fish._

 _But that was before his dad got busy. Now he didn't have time to play games on the computer or move the big heavy files on his desk and build a house of cards or play Go Fish. Now he always seemed worried, he was always checking the burglar alarms before bed and he put a second lock on the front and back door._

 _His mom was worried too, she didn't let Peter go out and play in the street with his friends anymore…_

 _Peter craned his neck to glimpse his parents' faces one last time as they climbed into the car. His mom was crying, he could tell even though it was raining because her face was all red._

 _The car sped off around the corner and Peter asked his Auntie May when his parents would be coming back to take him home, she said they would be back soon but he'd have to stay with them for a few days while they dealt with some grown up work problems._

 _She changed her answer the next day and said he'd be staying at their house for a bit longer than they thought. Actually it was his Uncle Ben that told him that, his Auntie May was crying in the kitchen. She was staring at the TV but it was angled away from him so all Peter knew was that the News Reporter kept mentioning a plane crash._

 _It took a while but eventually he learned to stop asking when his parents would be back to bring him home._

 _When he was ten his Uncle Ben finally confirmed what Peter already knew. They were dead. His Uncle Ben was a little vague on the details. He just said that they passed on shortly after they asked Auntie May and Uncle Ben to look after him and that his parents had loved him very dearly and were both watching over him wherever they were._

 _That happened on a Friday, the next day Peter asked his Auntie May to take him to the library so he could read the science books again but when he was there he walked straight past the rows upon rows of books just waiting_ _for him and he sat down at the small computer stand in the corner. The computers were bigger and slower than his dad's computer had been but they weren't that different really._

 _The computer was already on and ready to go so he opened the search engine and looked up the names: 'Richard and Mary Parker'. It didn't take him long to find the news report._

 _As his eyes bored into the picture of his mother and father (their bodies had never been recovered) his big brown eyes filled with tears. He sniffed and roughly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Peter stared at the news article that told him all the tiny details about what had really happened to his parents all those years ago and a thought that he would later deem as selfish and disrespectful flitted through his mind._

 _What if I'd gone with them?_

Queue the Sudden and Unexpected Change of POV…Now:

Clint waited for the faults to become apparent. He'd been watching Spider-Man closely since they'd first met and (although the mask made it a little tricky) he'd picked up a fair bit. The man seemed a little out of place among the agents and formal wear. He wasn't like the Cap who, despite the spangles, almost perfectly fit the SHIELD profile. Most agents, particularly the higher levels, accepted him as one of their own. He was a natural leader and it was more than just knowing how to handle a hostile situation…He had a way of earning the respect of most every individual in a room.

That being said, one of the few exceptions was if the room contained a particular individual by the name of Tony Stark who seemed incapable of respecting anybody.

Clint found Spider-Man's mask a little unnerving to be quite honest. In fact, everything about the man put him on edge. He seemed almost…normal. The skin tight red and blue suit aside of course.

He seemed completely at ease with the strangers around him, even somehow succeeding in making the ever nervous looking level one agents relax. He was too relaxed, too at ease. In Clint's extensive experience, sometimes agents w _ould_ adopt a carefree and cocky attitude to shield their nervous underbelly.

Spider-Man was _different_. Somehow this man's joking façade was genuine.

Clint didn't like that so much.

They boarded the plane and immediately the vigilante's attitude changed abruptly and without warning. His hands twitched like they wanted to curl into fists and he seemed to shrink into himself.

For a brief second Clint thought that maybe the man was suddenly hit with the realisation of what they were about to do but even with the mask Spider-Man was sending signals that told Clint everything he needed to know. The man's head tilted upwards fractionally as he took in the roof of the aircraft then tilted down as he studied the floor.

It wasn't a normal analysis of someone's surroundings. Spidey was focused on the plane's structure. His body language clearly stated uncertainty, doubt and wariness. Clint did his best not to blink in surprise when he realised what all this meant.

Was Spider-Man afraid of planes?

In a split second the entire scene was over. Spidey straightened up and took a seat, fussing with his seatbelt while Clint pretended to check over the supplies. When they took off Spider-Man's hands curled into tight fists that seemed to refuse to unfurl, confirming Clint's suspicions. He tried not to focus on the irony of a man that risked his neck by jumping off skyscrapers on a daily basis being afraid of flying.

Clint of course knew that often fears were built on personal experiences so he really couldn't judge. He was reluctant to let his guard down at first but approximately eleven minutes and thirty six seconds after they'd achieved lift off he struck up a conversation.

Spider-Man relaxed, easily continuing the conversation. It was clear from the beginning that he wasn't like a lower level agent as Clint had first expected. He wasn't cryptic or unsure of how much he was allowed to say.

He was _different_.

Clint wasn't sure what to think of that.

The plane turned and slowed ever so slightly but the tiny movement told Clint they were following standard protocol and were preparing to circle the target, staying a good distance before they had a good look at their surroundings. In two minutes the pilot will have completed the circuit and await further instructions.

Clint unfolded his bow making Spider-Man flinch when the _snap_ sounded through the contained area. It was clear that the vigilante was about to question Clint's actions when the pilot announced they would be preparing to land.

Spider-Man carefully stood up and swayed slightly. He put a hand on the wall to steady him and seemed to watch awkwardly as Clint checked through his supplies.

Clearly the man wasn't used to going on missions.

After a few moments Spider-Man rolled up his sleeve and began to fiddle with something on his wrist.

"You ready?" Clint asked. When the vigilante nodded he walked up to the wall separating them from the cockpit and hit a button on a control panel. The aircraft turned sharply and Spider-Man flinched. He didn't seem to notice that he was pressing himself up against the wall of the aircraft.

The back of the aircraft opened up and the smell of salty sea air filled the cabin. Spider-Man immediately relaxed and took a step towards the edge.

Clint subtly shifted his grip on his bow, telling his electronic quiver exactly what it needed to know. He pulled free an arrow and slid it into place without questioning the mechanics behind the selection process for a second. He trusted his bow and quiver to work correctly and they'd never given him a reason to have doubt.

The arrow Clint sent into the chest of a patrolling guard was blunt with a pressure sensitive trigger in the tip that activated an electrical charge. The man jerked and his legs collapsed beneath him. He wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

Spider-Man stiffened in surprise but he knew the guard was still breathing so said nothing.

Clint pressed a button on the ceiling and a compartment popped open. The archer pulled free the end of a long and sturdy looking yet surprisingly thin black cable attached to the roof of the aircraft and clipped it to a hook on the back of his suit.

Spider-Man mimicked his actions, pulling free the end of a second cable but he didn't have a hook on his uniform to secure the cable to, the vigilante didn't seem to notice.

Without further delay, Clint jumped out of the back of the aircraft and for a single fleeting instant the cable didn't catch it. Then the line pulled him back a fraction and the archer sprung upwards. There was a quiet whirring noise as Clint was slowly lowered towards the dot in the blackness far below him.

The wind whipped against his face bringing with it a familiar sting. He couldn't help but smile at the familiar soaring sensation coursing through him. It was both peaceful and exhilarating to be suspended so high up in the air.

"Great view isn't it?" Spider-Man asked. Clint looked up to see the vigilante hanging upside down almost in a sitting position. His legs were folded above his head while his arms were fully extended, effortlessly holding onto the thin strand of cable. It occurred to Clint that, despite being small in build, the man had a lot of upper body strength.

Before they knew it the deck was rising up to meet them. Spider-Man performed a perfectly executed flip maybe ten feet above the ground and landed in a crouch. Somehow Clint didn't get the feeling that the man was showing off.

They moved towards the door leading to the lower levels while Clint swiftly pulled the scanner from his belt. Thankfully the device didn't emit shrill beeping sounds or anything else that could alert somebody to their position. It had a simple display screen that showed the gamma levels were completely normal.

Clint was slightly unnerved by how quiet Spider-Man was. The archer strained to hear something, anything. Be it the faint sound of shallow breath or the steady rhythm of foot on ground. The archer found himself glancing over his shoulder to check the vigilante was still there more often than he should have.

What was SHIELD _thinking_ anyway? Spider-Man wasn't an agent, sure he could (apparently) handle the stealth aspect but what about when he got bored or lost focus? What about when the vigilante got cocky or decided he could get the mission done in half the time if he went off by himself? He wasn't used to SHIELD procedure, it didn't seem like he was used to working with a partner and he had a cocktail of spidery powers that-

SHIELD probably knew all about. His superiors wouldn't just team him up with an unpredictable element that could easily get them both killed. He was just overreacting.

Clint glanced over his shoulder and saw that Spider-Man wasn't behind him.

Or maybe he wasn't.

There was a muffled sound so faint that Clint's sensitive ears barely picked up on it. With the scanner tucked safely in his belt, the archer pulled back his bow string with a stun arrow already in place and turned a corner expecting to see a guard patrolling the lower decks. Instead he saw…nothing?

He hadn't imagined the sound…It had definitely come from the hallway in front of him which meant-

Spider-Man dropped down and landed in a crouch mere feet from where Clint was staying. Almost immediately the vigilante straightened up.

"Sorry, heard something up ahead and came to check it out. Just a guard I think," Spider-Man stated casually. Clint reluctantly lowered his bow but left the arrow in place.

"What did you do with him?" Clint asked in a low voice. He got the feeling that behind the mask his 'partner' was raising an eyebrow as he slowly raised a hand and pointed upwards. Clint looked up and saw a large man secured to the ceiling by-

"Right, you've got webs...Isn't that a tell-tale sign that you've been here though?" Clint asked hesitantly.

"Nah...Well, not unless they find him fairly soon. Those webs will dissolve in a couple of hours and we'll be long gone by then right?"

Clint didn't reply, instead his attention was caught by the scanner that had lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh shi-" he began when he heard a clang and looked down in time to see a metal cylinder roll along the ground towards him.

"GET DOWN!" Clint roared and threw himself to the ground as the grenade blew.

:::

 **Chapter originally written by the endlessly talented consultingsorcererof221B**


	8. Hawkeye's Return Part Four:

_A Familiar Face_

 **Hawkeye's Return Pt. 4:**

Clint let out a groan and immediately noted the absence of the hard floor that had been beneath him what felt like a moment before. The lack of constant movement confirmed his suspicions. He wasn't on the boat anymore.

The archer opened his eyes and saw plain white walls accompanied by the stench of disinfectant. Despite the room seeming fairly unremarkable, he recognised it almost immediately. Clint had been in the SHIELD medical facility enough times.

Knowing where he was brought some relief, knowing he was within a SHIELD base made it even better.

At that moment a doctor walked into the room without even glancing at him.

"How are you feeling, Agent Barton?" she asked calmly.

"Fine," Clint said and sat up. His head swam and a steady pounding near his temple suddenly made itself present, making him falter.

"You might want to avoid sitting up too quickly," she added pointlessly.

"Yeah, I got that, thanks," Clint muttered as he leaned back once more. "What happened with the mission?"

The woman shrugged and sat down at a desk before tapping a few commands into the computer before her.

"You made it out alive obviously. They don't exactly give the medical staff rundowns of classified missions. From what I understand your partner on the mission asked to be informed when you woke up. You've been out for a few hours so I don't know if he's still here. I can call down and check if you want," she added.

"Uh, sure…I doubt he'd still be here though," Clint admitted. He barely knew the guy, why would he care for the archer's wellbeing? The doctor picked up the phone on the desk and spoke quickly before she hung up.

"He's on his way."

Clint didn't let his surprise reach his face. He just gave a stiff nod and winced when it made the pain in his head spike. By the time the doctor had checked for a concussion Spider-Man had apparently cleared security. The woman shot the vigilante a curious glance before she left the room.

It was clear from the start that he didn't really know what to say so Clint started up the conversation.

"What happened?"

Spider-Man shifted his weight uncomfortably before replying.

"You were, uh…too close to the grenade. Fortunately you hit the floor before it went off so you avoided most of the shrapnel but I guess the blast must have knocked you out. There were only a couple guys and they weren't exactly well trained…Well, I managed to call our ride so it all turned out fine I guess."

"Uh huh. And how did I get out if I was unconscious?" Clint asked.

"He carried you," a voice replied from the medical room door. Spider-Man didn't as much as flinch despite having his back to the door at the time. The vigilante turned calmly to face their visitor, incidentally giving Clint an unblocked view of the doorway. Director Fury was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

"We successfully seized the boat but we also decided to run back through some of the security footage. It seems you somewhat glossed over the fact that you took on a total of seventeen people while trying to get yourself and Agent Barton to the aircraft."

Spider-Man didn't reply although he seemed to shrink into himself as the Director continued.

"Needless to say all of them were armed and more than willing to kill you yet you still managed to…subdue every one of them. All while carrying an unconscious agent on your back. Am I missing anything?" Fury asked.

"I, uh, think that probably about covers it," Spider-Man replied.

"Wait for me in my office. I trust you remember where it is."

Spider-Man darted out of the room faster than Clint thought possible. Fury waited a moment before addressing Clint.

"You did well, Agent Barton."

Clint frowned, "I- But sir I was unconscious for most of the mission…I could have gotten both Spider-Man and myself killed."

"SHIELD wants Spider-Man to be a secure ally but for this to work he needs to trust us and we need to be able to trust him. Who knows, maybe one day he'll prove worthy of an Avengers status? Spider-Man doesn't trust SHIELD, Agent Barton. That doesn't mean he can't trust you." Without another word Fury turned on his heel and left Clint to ponder.

Peter's POV:

Shit, he'd somehow managed to piss off a government freaking agency.

Alright, so maybe he should have gone into more detail when they asked him what happened but can you blame him for not wanting to tell them _exactly_ what he was capable of…It wasn't a big deal though right?

Director Fury walked in and sat down behind the desk opposite him.

"We want you to become a SHIELD agent," Nick Fury said, his face a void of emotion. Peter blinked beneath his mask. Suddenly his mouth felt very dry.

"Come again?" he asked carefully.

"We understand you feel strongly about keeping your identity under wraps. Normally this would be an issue but given the circumstances...You've proven yourself an invaluable asset and despite overwhelming odds you completed your mission without receiving any serious injuries. We are not suggesting that this should be a full time arrangement and you can continue assisting the police. Just be our backup when we come up against an enemy that cannot be taken down by more...traditional means. Super villains, as I believe the media calls them. You could help save a lot of lives Spider-Man."

Peter hesitated, the arrangement didn't sound...unreasonable. But he had Aunt May to think of. Calling her to say he was spending the night at a friend's house would work once or twice but soon she'd realise that he was 'staying the night at a friend's house' and coming back with unexplained injuries. She worried about him enough as it was, hell he wasn't sure if her heart would be able to take it if he died! No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't put Aunt May through all that.

"Naturally we'd be paying you per mission, this is an estimate of what you'd be earning and of course being a SHIELD agent comes with certain perks," Fury stated and handed him a sheet of paper. Peter's eyes widened as he took in the information before him. With this he could easily cover their bills for the month and still have some left over.

This changed everything.

 _:::_

 _R/R_

 **Original chapter written by consultingsorcererof221B**


	9. New Faces

_A Familiar Face_

They had a good system.

Peter had a burner phone. No GPS, dirt cheap, easily replaced. When SHIELD needed to call him in they sent him a text and he made his way over to a prearranged location. When whatever mission they had for him was complete they paid him in cash. Simple!

 _Thwip_

The missions were less simplistic. They were generally brutal, complicated and involved some pretty dodgy characters but Peter was confident that he could handle it.

 _Thwip_

The only problem was figuring out how to explain the money to Aunt May. She knew that he wasn't earning all of the money just from selling pictures to the Bugle and she'd confront him sooner or later…

Peter shoved thoughts of Aunt May aside and returned his attention to the ground. He watched calmly as the concrete rose up to meet him and shot off a perfectly aimed web.

 _Thwip_

He performed a somersault in the air and landed on the rooftop in a crouch.

"You took your time getting here," Clint said. Peter shrugged and straightened out of his crouch before turning around.

"Well, gee, Featherhead what can I say? The idea of 'training' with you on my day off doesn't exactly fill me with joy."

Clint shook his head in mock disappointment. "Hey, this isn't that crappy little room in the main base. This is the _real_ training facility where all the big guys hang out. Trust me, you're gonna recognise a few faces."

Peter opened his mouth to reply but Clint was already walking across the roof to an emergency access door.

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

The archer turned back and smirked at him before pressing his palm against a panel on the door. There was a click and the door swung open.

"See for yourself."

xxx

The training room in the SHIELD base consisted of a handful of punching bags, a treadmill and a few crashmats. The training _facility_ had an entire floor devoted to hand on hand combat.

Peter whistled through his teeth as they passed two agents going head to head in the boxing style ring positioned in the centre of a large room. The first appeared to have a physical advantage. The man was quite broad in build with heavily muscled arms and a buzz cut while the woman he was going up against was fairly small with short red hair.

Less than a minute later the man was out cold.

"You went easy on him, Natasha," Clint called out. The woman smirked at him before she stepped forwards and dragged the larger man to the edge of the ring.

"That's the Black Widow," Clint informed him as they walked.

"Wait, Black Widow as in the _Avenger_?" Peter asked incredulously.

"That's the one," he replied casually as they passed into the next room which was separated into sections, each one consisting of various training equipment including several rows of punching bags.

"Hey, Steve," Clint greeted a man with short blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Clint…didn't expect to see you over here. Normally you're staking out the obstacle course, right?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Not here to train, Cap. Just giving Spidey the tour," Clint replied drawing the man's attention to Peter.

"Steve Rogers," the man said and extended a hand. Peter hesitated only a moment.

"Spider-Man," he replied and shook hands with Captain freaking America. Would telling Gwen about this be considered illegal? Peter figured it was worth the risk.

"The New York vigilante, I guess the rumours about you working for SHIELD are true," Steve commented. Peter tried not to focus on the fact that Captain America knew who he was.

"Try to take it easy on those punching bags, Cap," Clint said with a smirk.

"Only if you try to take it easy on the targets in the shooting range," the legendary super soldier from World War Two replied before walking back towards the rows of punching bags.

"Please tell me we're not about to walk into the Hulk or something," Peter said flatly.

"Nah, he doesn't hang out here," Clint said with a shrug. Peter couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

xxx

Everything was fine for about an hour and a half. They finished the tour, Peter aced the obstacle course in record time and he watched as Clint destroyed a shooting range. Then Clint made an excuse and left for about ten minutes before returning with (what Peter would later swear was) an evil smile on his face.

"Hey Spidey," he said, not even attempting to act casual.

"What did you do?" Peter deadpanned.

"What makes you think I've done something?" he asked casually.

"The stupid grin on your face, now what did you do and how badly am I going to want to kill you?"

The corners of Clint's mouth twitched downwards in a very forced frown. "I admit to nothing."

"Bird breath, own up before I web you to a target in the shooting range," Peter said slowly. Clint let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine, I kind of…accidentally promised someone that you'd spar with them."

"Okay…"

"You kind of met him at the beginning of the tour."

"Please tell me you're not implying what I think you're implying."

"He was by the punching bags, remember?"

"You better be messing with me."

"Blonde hair, blue eyes, commonly seen wearing a star spangled outfit."

"Ha, ha, very funny Clint. Now knock it off. Joke's over."

"Afraid not," the archer said. The evil grin was back. Peter mentally counted down from ten.

"Please tell me you didn't actually promise _Captain America_ that I would spar with him."

"Look, he asked me if I wanted to go a few rounds in the ring! What else was I supposed to do? Poor guy has to resort to wrecking punching bags on a daily basis because no agent in their right mind would willingly volunteer to go up against Captain America," Clint retorted.

"So you said _I'd_ willingly go up against him?!"

"Well you can go track him down and tell him you've changed your mind."

"But I never agreed to it in the- You know what? Fine, let's just get this over with."

"I'm glad you think that because you're meeting him in the ring in ten minutes."

"CLINT!"

xxx

Peter shot Clint a deadly glare that the mask unfortunately made pointless as he stood in the ring. Opposite him the star spangled hero rolled his shoulder and slipped his arm through the leather straps on the back of his famous weapon of choice. It was made almost entirely out of Vibranium, the rarest metal on the planet. It was stronger than steel, a third of the weight, vibration absorbent and the object that would more than likely be responsible for Spider-Man's tragic death.

If he survived this he was gonna _kill_ Clint.

Black Widow stood up and walked to the edge of the ring. God she was so quiet Peter had forgotten she was even there.

"You ready Cap?" she asked, a hint of a smile emerging. He returned the smile and that seemed to be the only reply she needed.

"Alright boys, try not to kill each other. You hit the mat and you're not back up by the count of five then the fight is over."

Right, no killing the living World War 2 legend, got it.

Somebody must have flicked a switch or pressed a button or something because the large screen that covered the back wall flickered to life and a huge red 5 appeared.

He could do this. He had increased thought process and he didn't even know the limits to his own strength. But he could hold the weight of a car while hanging off a bridge which made him pretty freaking strong. Then he had his crazy reflexes and his weird spidey sense…

4

God, he was dead meat. The man across from him was a trained professional and Peter hadn't forgotten that he wasn't the only one with superhuman abilities. The difference was this man knew what he was doing. Unlike Peter, Steve Rogers knew the limits of his own strength, how hard he could push himself.

3

Okay so what did he actually _know_ about Captain America? He either didn't age or he was some sort of time traveller, at this point neither would really come as a surprise. Of course, this information wouldn't exactly help Peter defeat the man in a fight either. So from the footage he'd seen from the Battle of New York the guy had super strength and agility. He almost definitely had some increased stamina thrown into the mix. Again, none of this really helped him.

2

He was Spider-Man! He'd defeated a giant mutant lizard. Surely he could take down one guy dressed like the American Flag. Even if he did almost die fighting the Lizard…and technically only stopped his insane plan by releasing the antidote. Something told him there wouldn't be a sneaky escape clause this time around.

1

Just stay alert and let your reflexes do the fighting for you. It's worked before right? Right, everything would be fine. He was quick, he could move first and catch the man by surprise…It may not give him much of an edge but it was something. Okay, deep breaths. He could do this.

FIGHT

Peter darted forwards before the super soldier could make his move. He gripped the shield in both hands and shoved it aside with some effort and sent an elbow into Steve's ribs but the man didn't even flinch. Right, increased durability and super strength sort of came together. He'd need to put a little more force into his punches if he wanted to provide more than a mere annoyance.

That little tingly feeling at the base of his skull came alive and he ducked as something (presumably a fist) passed overhead. He could not, however, quite avoid the shield that hit him square between the shoulder blades.

Peter hit the floor and immediately rolled away from his opponent before he came up in a crouch. Damn that guy hit him hard. His back would no doubt host a brightly coloured bruise by morning. As if his normal array of injuries weren't enough.

The vigilante leaped forwards and Steve lifted his shield but Peter didn't stop. He hit the metal and immediately sprung upwards and over his opponent. Before Steve could turn around Peter planted a solid kick to the man's upper back and followed up with a blow to the backs of his knees.

The super soldier hit the ground. Peter sent a web to secure him but Steve was protected by that damn hunk of metal.

Peter's spidey sense prickled and he wasn't entirely sure why but he was leaping into the air. He performed a perfect flip and glimpsed the shield passing through the space he'd occupied just a moment ago.

If Peter wanted to win this 'friendly sparring match' the Frisbee had to go.

Steve had gotten back to his feet and was ready in a defensive stance. Peter darted forwards, hands outstretched and clung to the shield with his sticky fingers. He yanked it off his opponents arm and before Steve could realise what he was doing, launched it upwards into the air and at the perfect moment sent a web after it.

There was a dull clang as metal collided with ceiling (probably with a little more force than necessary) and a satisfying _thwap_ as the spurt of webbing found its target.

Steve wasted no time dwelling over how he was supposed to get his beloved shield off the ceiling. He stepped forwards, closing the space between the two in no time and threw a punch aimed at Peter's jaw. Of course the vigilante's spidey sense didn't let that happen. He ducked at the last moment and threw his fist into Steve's ribs.

His opponent doubled over but he was recovering too quickly. Peter still wasn't hitting hard enough. Sooner or later the Captain would get a lucky shot. He couldn't let this opportunity pass.

Peter uttered a silent apology as he slammed his knee into Steve's forehead with enough force to knock an ordinary man out cold. The super soldier hit the floor in a daze but somehow he still wasn't freaking unconscious.

The vigilante tapped the sensors in his palms and let off twin streams of webbing. Only then, when his opponent was secured to the floor in a cocoon of bio cable, did he let himself relax. Peter was breathing heavily, his back still ached dully and his knuckles felt bruised. Not bad considering he'd just-

Taken on Captain America…He'd _beaten_ Captain America…In a fight…

He turned around to see Clint staring at him in stunned silence. Next to him the Black Widow raised an eyebrow. If he hadn't known better he'd have said she looked impressed.

"Spidey…" Clint finally stuttered. "You just beat up a ninety five year old."

xxx

He sat in silence next to the old style boxing ring. There were no windows in the room but he knew it was dark outside. The world always looks different at night. During the day dark spaces look like corners, trying desperately to evade the light that envelops the world…but at night it's the other way around. It's like the light is doing everything it possibly can to fend off the darkness that swallows everything in its path.

"Are you going to update your report?" the woman sitting next to him finally asked.

"I don't see why I should, we haven't witnessed anything SHIELD doesn't already know," Clint replied.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You seriously expect me to believe that SHIELD is aware Spider-Man can defeat Captain America in a fight?"

"They know he has increased strength, speed, agility, reflexes, stamina-" Clint listed before she cut him off.

"They know he's a potential threat, not that he has the capability to take down an Avenger in hand to hand combat."

"They know he has the capability to take _me_ down, and I'm an Avenger."

"Clint-"

"Natasha!"

"They need to know," she said calmly.

"He's a good guy, Natasha. He's not going to wake up on the wrong side of bed one morning and decide to take over the world."

"Anyone can be compromised, Barton. You know that better than most."

She hadn't meant it in the 'New York was all your fault' way and Clint knew that. But it didn't stop him from wincing slightly.

"We tell SHIELD and the deal is off. They'll want to know who he is, how he got his powers, his limitations, his weaknesses."

"Fury is fair and there's enough evidence to support your claim that Spider-Man isn't a threat," Natasha reasoned.

"But it won't be his call in the end. It will be the council's and they'll say it's not worth the risk."

Natasha paused for a moment. It wasn't a hesitation, merely a break in conversation for her to evaluate the situation.

"Why are you protecting him?"

Clint thought about that for a moment.

"He saved my life, Nat. You know what owing a debt is like."

 _:::_

 _R/R if you enjoyed :)_

 **Chapter originally written by consultingsorcerer221B**


	10. Leap Without Faith

_A Familiar Face_

 **Leap Without Faith:**

The 'five o'clock shift' was normally either the calmest or the most hectic of Peter's daily patrols. For one most muggers and drug dealers and the like aren't stupid enough to commit their crimes in broad daylight.

Despite this, every now and then a lone idiot would pop up. The counter argument he'd heard numerous times was that most vigilante's patrol at night so the risk of getting caught by a 'crazy in a mask' was lower. Peter liked to point out that if they didn't deal in illegal activities they wouldn't have to worry about vigilantes at all.

Idiotic muggers aside, midday was prime time for bank robberies…and the occasional super villain attack. Peter got the feeling they liked attacking in broad daylight so more people would be there to see their plan in action. Villains always had such needy egos.

So the five o'clock shift tended to be Peter's favourite because it was either a few hours of him lounging around on rooftops, alternating between warming himself under the baking sun and cooling off in the shade, or it was a few hours of him stopping whatever grand scheme the local criminals had planned out. It always seemed to be one or the other, no in between. And that day it was most definitely the latter.

Two bank robberies, four muggings, a drug deal gone wrong and a group of six armed guys attempting to illegally transport a crocodile later Peter half sat half collapsed on a rooftop. He was in fairly good shape, cuts and bruises mostly. He'd been lucky, that pesky reptile's teeth had barely grazed him anyway.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time, 6:30. Right, so one last circuit and if nothing came up he was going home to crash for about an hour before he ate and left for the night shift. But he was allowed to sit down for like five minutes first though, right? He'd certainly earned it.

Peter gave a content sigh and let his legs hang over the edge of the roof. He'd never been especially bothered by heights but after the spider bite they'd become something of a reassurance. He felt invincible up there, out of reach from the world.

He watched the cars crawl along like insects far beneath him.

For a short while he was happy. He didn't have to think about how many people he failed to save during those few precious hours of sleep he got each night or how he was going to make enough money to cover their bills that month. For a short while, he was allowed to just sit on the roof and let his mind go blank as he stared at the street below. Finally he gave a drawn out sigh before he pushed himself off the roof and let himself fall.

Sometimes he chose to fall headfirst and streak towards the ground at dangerous speeds but this time he spread out like he'd seen skydivers do on TV. It wasn't the first time he'd chosen this method, it was slower and not nearly as graceful as a nosedive but in that moment, with the air rushing past him and the ground approaching at a steady pace, he didn't care.

Well, he didn't care until his spidey-sense came alive in the base of his skull and he barely had enough time to look up in alarm before something crashed into him.

The air left his lungs and his ribs screamed in protest. It took him a moment to realise that he wasn't falling anymore, he was flying. He caught a flash of red material but before he could focus on…well, much of anything, he was dropped rather unceremoniously on a roof. The second he made impact he rolled and came up in a defensive crouch before taking in the sight before him.

A man in silver armour with a billowing red cape attached to his back by plates on his shoulders watched him from the edge of the roof. The light breeze was playing with his long blonde hair and the light reflected brilliantly off the…hammer he held in his hand.

"Are you alright, young Midgardian?" he asked with genuine worry in his booming voice.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for an uncomfortable period of time but Peter was having a difficult time forming words. So he just stayed where he was, with one arm wrapped around his middle where his ribs still ached dully.

"Uhh…Did you just…Did you just _catch_ me?" Peter stuttered as he slowly straightened up out of his crouch. Damn, of all the times to get stage fright.

"Indeed, from what I understand of Midgardian biology the damage sustained when falling is great," the man replied with an exaggerated nod. Peter felt like an idiot for not recognising him sooner but in his defence, his brain still felt a little muddled.

He took a second to collect his thoughts. Sure Clint had mentioned the 'Mighty Thor' once or twice but he'd neglected to go into detail about the actual Norse God part and instead focused on retelling the story of how the archer had ended up spending a little over an hour attempting to explain the microwave to him.

"Uh, yeah. Right. See I uh…I'm not a civilian…I'm Spider-Man," he said slowly. A confused expression crossed the man's face.

"Spider…man?" he repeated. A thought suddenly dawned on Peter. Clint had said the guy was essentially an alien.

"You know what a spider is right?"

If not then this explanation could easily get a thousand times more complicated.

Thor's face brightened in understanding. "Indeed! Son of Stark once spoke of the fearsome beasts you call 'spiders'. Things of many eyes and many legs but little body."

Why? Why did Thor of all people have to see him jump off a rooftop? Why couldn't it have been the Hulk? That encounter probably would have been less painful than this.

"They're not really _that_ fearsome, big guy. Spiders are these tiny little creatures that are…sometimes dangerous but for the most part they're perfectly harmless. They just freak a lot of people out. Something about the way they move," Peter said quickly. He hoped this explanation would be enough to satisfy his curiosity but if the frown on Thor's face said anything, Peter wasn't getting off that easy.

"So you claim to not be an entirely fearsome beast, but _also_ man?" he asked with a doubtful expression. Peter suppressed a frustrated sigh and opened his mouth but his attention was snatched away from Thor.

"No way," he muttered, the mask concealing the fact that his eyes went wide as a sound like an engine made itself present. His spidey sense hadn't quite calmed down after running (or falling) into Thor but now the faint prickle that predicted the possibility of danger had progressed into something closer to pins and needles.

There was an audible _thunk_ as Ironman hit the roof, leaving a sizable dent in its surface. He stood up without even glancing at the crater beneath his feet and the mask flipped up revealing the billionaire inside.

"Point Break, if you didn't want to help Bruce move the piano you could have just said so and he would have asked Steve instead. Smashing through the window on the seventy ninth floor really wasn't necessary," Tony Stark said casually. Tony Stark. THE Tony Stark said casually.

"My apologies, friend Tony. The Man of Spiders appeared in need of assistance," Thor stated. Peter wanted to fade out of existence then and there.

"Man of Spiders?" Tony said questioningly and turned slightly to look at Peter. "Ah, Spider-Man. You're the web swinger, right?"

Peter gave a stiff nod, thankful that his mask hid the blush that was creeping across his face.

"I, uh…There was a bit of a misunderstanding," he muttered.

"Well, wouldn't be the first time. He's still working on the whole 'understanding out culture' thing," the billionaire said dismissively. "So, Spider-Man, you've met the muscle of the team. Wanna meet the rest?"

 _:::_

 **Sadly, this was the last written chapter by the very talented consultingsorcerorof221B. The next chapter (or remainder of the story itself, honestly) is in my hands. I'll do my best to adequately fill his shoes and produce an amazing story for the fans. Please R/R. Thanks so much guys.**

 **\- FinallShadoww**


	11. Contact

_A/N: Here goes my first shot at officially writing for 'A Familiar Face.' I hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback as it helps and motivates me greatly, along with any further suggestions which will contribute to the story._

 _May we also give thanks to the original owner,_ _**consultingsorcererof221B**_ _. Let's hope 2016 and the subsequent years ahead are amazing for him._

Now sit back with a bunch of your favorite snacks and enjoy the ride!

 _-FinallShadoww_

 _A Familiar Face_

To say that Peter Parker was awestruck would be a gargantuan understatement; the young vigilante was completely mesmerized by the events unfolding around him.

For one, he had not only stepped foot within a ten meter radius of _Tony Stark_ , but had also taken part in a (albeit one-sided) conversation with the walking billionaire philanthropist himself.

On another note, Spidey had only moments prior been 'saved' by a Norse God who failed to properly grasp the concept of arachnids, believing that under the red and blue cowl lie a fiendish furry creature with twelve eyes.

The night had certainly taken a turn for the inexplicable, and Peter was admittedly in a state of shock.

Tony Stark's question lingered in the air for several more seconds, the armored man rather awkwardly looking from Thor to Spider-Man while awaiting an answer.

"I do not think the beast heard you, friend Tony. It appears these ' _spiders_ ' are devoid of ears," Thor breaks the silence, a quizzical expression plastered on his face.

Tony is looking equally befuddled.

"Hey ⋯ Spider-Man? What're you looking at?" Tony asks uncertainly, taking a quick glance over his shoulder to check if any Chitauri managed to find their way back into New York; admittedly Tony had been undergoing some difficult changes since the events of The Invasion, though he hid the problems perfectly well. Paranoia and anxiety was on the rise, unfortunately enough.

Peter instantly snapped out of his daze, returning to reality as muddled thoughts cleared completely from his hyperactive mind ⋯ well, besides the endless ' _Tony-freaking-Stark talked to me a second time!'_ echoes that refused to stop.

"Of course I would like to meet the rest! Well ⋯ I mean, if it isn't too much trouble, Mr. Stark ⋯" words were slipping from Peter's mouth before he had a moment to properly think.

Before another sentence could be uttered, Tony simply nodded as the metal mask of the Iron-Man suit covered his features in one swift motion.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, inform the Avengers to meet at the tower. We have a special guest." With these words, Tony turns and is rocketing away from the rooftop in seconds, leaving the Asgardian with the 'Man of Spiders.'

"It appears we're needed at the Tower of Tony, friend Spider. Let us fly there at once!" Without a moment's hesitation Thor is speeding in the direction of Iron-Man, hammer spinning wilding as he goes.

Peter shifts awkwardly from one foot to another, heaving a deep sigh. "I guess I won't be stopping home tonight. And I was _seriously_ eager to eat the meatloaf Aunt May made," Peter jokes dryly, taking into a sprint toward the edge of the rooftop, seamlessly leaping into the somewhat chilled evening air without thinking.

Suit rippling, winds harsh, a web attached to an unseen building ⋯ for the first time today Peter was genuinely smiling, a newfound sense of wonder overcoming his body.

He arrived at the Tower only five minutes later, noting that Tony, completely free of his Iron-Man attire, was standing dead-center on the incredible overhanging platform; the single letter 'A' had survived the Chitauri attack and was currently positioned on the side of the platform itself.

Peter landed in his trademark crouching position only feet away from Stark, though the playboy was rather focused on a holographic projection which displayed various digital documents.

Upon seeing Peter steadily rise to his feet, Tony cleared the hologram with the simple swish of the hand and walked toward Peter nonchalantly, a beer in hand.

"Want one?" he asks Peter, blank features hiding any emotion with the beer outstretched.

"No thanks, Mr. Stark. A few of those and I'll be tripping over my webs on the way home," Peter replies calmly, not daring to say he's underage. Tony may be an iconic and well respected individual, but Peter would rather like to keep his age confidential.

"Or it could just be that you're not old enough for one of these puppies, eh?" Tony gestures to the beer, a small smile playing at his lips as a silent wink is shot a Peter.

Before the red and blue clad vigilante even has a chance to process what had just been said, Tony is already making his way into the Tower, using his grimy blue t-shirt to open the beer bottle with ease. "C'mon, Spider of Man. There's a few people you haven't met yet."

 _:::_

 _Alright, so. This is just a tiny taste of my writing style, and I've made the chapter somewhat short in order to test the waters. If you enjoyed please leave a review and all the other good stuff :) Since I'm taking over the fic I'll need loads of motivation to overcome the daunting challenge ahead, haha.  
_

 _But seriously, thanks for reading! I'll be publishing chapters quite frequently, each leaning toward 2000-3000 words each. I hope you enjoy the remainder of A Familiar Face!_


	12. Conveyance

_**A/N** : The positive reviews and followers I have received just twenty-four hours after taking helm of this fic is astounding. You guys really made me smile with your kind words, and I'm extremely glad you enjoyed my first attempt with this story. Here's another chapter for you :)_

 _A Familiar Face_

Admittedly there weren't many new faces within the Stark Tower Complex.

Peter was already well acquainted with Clint, who was currently leaning stiffly on one of Tony's pristine leather couches; upon hearing new footsteps the archer turned his gaze in the direction of Spidey, a small smile washing over his features. A curt nod was exchanged between the two.

"I believe you already know Legolas. I read about your mission with the boats in some report⋯ heard he got his ass kicked," Tony speaks slyly, a small jab shot at Clint. The archer simply lets out a small chortle, eyes darting back to the ground with his arms crossed.

Peter then notices several other individuals surrounding Clint; the red-headed Natasha is seated on the same couch, eyes somewhat steely, not quite mixing with her otherwise soft features. Beside her sits none other than Captain America himself, a proud expression washing over his face as he glances at Peter. The Norse God Thor is standing not too far from the others, inspecting one of Tony's possibly priceless vases with complete disregard of it's value. And finally, looking as if he'd rather shrink into nothingness at this very moment was ⋯

 _Bruce Banner_.

Peter never suspected he would meet this man again, let alone on the top floor of Stark Tower. He'd simply believed another citizen of New York had been saved, and nothing more would come from it. It appeared Peter was mistaken.

Bruce looked rather uncomfortable, obviously wishing to be anywhere else in the world than in the presence of Spider-Man. Peter understood immediately.

"You've already met our lovely Natasha, I've heard, and I'm sure you must've seen our pretty-boy Rogers over there. He's usually seen wearing the American flag as he rushes into battle," Tony continues, obviously unaware of the match that took place several days ago. It appears Clint and Natasha weren't ones to spread gossip. "Thor is pretty hard to miss, so the only person left is Mister Banner," Tony gestures in the direction of Bruce, who slowly rises from his seat and walks toward Peter.

Before the somewhat nervous Bruce has the chance to utter a single word, Peter outstretches a hand and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

A shocked but undoubtedly relieved expression finds it's way onto Bruce as he takes Peter's hand in his own, shaking happily.

"The pleasure is all mine. I've heard a lot of interesting things about you; I'll have you know I'm quite interested to see how you produce webs strong enough to support your weight while momentously swinging through the air. If I could take a guess, I would have to say the fluid is made from nickel-plated annealed brass-" Bruce begins before Tony rudely interrupts, now pouring drinks for the members of the team.

"Don't scare off the guy just yet, green-bean. We've only just gotten through the introductions."

Peter's eyes widen. Obviously the final member of the Avengers was currently missing, meaning that connecting the dots between Bruce and the Hulk would be incredibly obvious. Still, Peter was admittedly shocked to discover that he had _saved_ the _freakin_ _' Hulk_ from petty criminals all those months ago.

Well, to be fair, it appears as though Peter had saved the muggers from the wrath of the unstoppable green monster; a few moments later and the entire block would have dissipated into rubble under the Hulk's rage.

Peter notices a small hint of gratitude in Bruce's eyes, happy that Spider-Man had kept the encounter to himself. Peter cracks a smile from beneath his red and blue mask.

Once the drinks had been distributed to the team, Tony gestures for Peter to take a seat. Although Peter was somewhat cautious, he trusted Clint to an incredible extent and was also very comfortable around Steve and Bruce. Natasha even appeared to have relaxed her features, looking rather lax while sipping on her martini. Thor had already downed several mugs of beer, though the God seemed completely unperturbed by the alcohol; apparently a tolerance for it had already been built.

Eventually deciding that sitting alongside _Earth's Mightiest Heroes_ was something not many seventeen year old boys had the chance of doing, Peter obliges and sinks into one of many invaluable chairs.

Tony instantaneously lifts his glass and exclaims, "To the newest agent of SHIELD!"

Echoes of the chant bounce around the impressively large room, with Peter soon being thrust into a myriad of conversations and topics as the members of Earth's Mightiest Heroes debate and argue over measly issues for hours on end.

 **xxx**

It's easily well after ten o'clock before the Avengers cease their quarreling and begin returning to their respective shelters.

Natasha saunters over to Peter, giving the red and blue suited vigilante a small but warm smile.

"I know we hadn't officially spoken before tonight, but I wanted to tell you how impressive the takedown on Steve was. I honestly thought you were gonna get trampled in that ring," she expresses in a somewhat sly tone.

Peter nods. "So did I. Do you think he went easy on me?"

Natasha chances a glance at Steve, who is socializing happily with Thor on the further side of the room. She shakes her head. "No, Steve seems genuinely proud. He was bested in a fair one-on-one fight. He sees a lot of potential in you."

Peter is slightly taken aback, but an immediate sense of indescribable happiness envelops his body from head to toe. He's completely content.

"Thank you. You know, for treating me like I'm one of you guys," Peter says genuinely. Natasha's warm smile grows ever so slightly.

"Keep up the good work, Spider. We're impressed with what you can do." With these words and a somewhat awkward handshake, in which Peter attempted to act calm and in control while refraining from jumping around in glee, Black Widow turned, spoke her goodbyes to her fellow teammates and made to leave Stark Tower with Clint in tow. The archer managed to sneak a quick cheesy grin in Peter's direction before being pushed out the door by Natasha.

Only moments later Thor gave Steve several friendly slaps to the back before making his way to Peter, a slight wobble to his step; perhaps he wasn't completely intolerant to beer after all.

"Spider-Man! What a pleasurable evening this has been!" he exclaims, arms raised high above his head. A dazzling grin seems to be unwaveringly plastered to his face.

Peter isn't given the chance to reply. Thor simply slaps his back in the same manner as with Steve, giggles exuberantly, then shuffles away while uttering, "Now, now, why must _Hulk_ always be so tardy?"

Banner lets a chuckle escape his lips. He now bears a content smile.

"Please excuse the _ruler_ of Asgard. This is the first time he's been back on Earth since the Chitauri invaded," Captain America's lighthearted tone reaches Peter's ears, the war hero taking up a spot beside New York's mysterious masked hero.

"About that, actually; I just wanted to say thanks for saving the entire population. Without you we'd have been⋯ well, honestly we wouldn't be here right now," Peter turns to face the Captain. His features are now hard to read, his gaze suddenly nowhere in particular.

"Admittedly, having you on the job could have made the entire invasion a whole lot easier." Steve's expression turns rather steely. "Look," the war veteran speaks calmly, his voice noticeably quiet, "you have an exponential amount of potential in you. I'm willing to bet that if you continue your training with me, you'll become ⋯ honestly, I believe you'll rise to my standard and accomplish amazing things in your lifetime."

Peter takes a moment or two to absorb the information. While undoubtedly flattered, there's something noticeable in the way Steve talked, his tone, the visible facial expressions; he seems irritated with something.

As if to add fuel to Peter's fiery speculations, Steve risks a slight glance at Tony. The philanthropist is tending to the visual documents Peter recognizes from earlier in the evening.

A second later Steve directs his attention fully to Peter, standing noticeably taller, eyes and facial features returning to their previously lax state.

"Of course, you can still train with Clint if you'd like. Hell, we're both open if you think you can survive both our training regimes," Steve continues smoothly, diminishing all previous notes of irritation from his body. "Just know that I'm always here to _help_ , Spider-Man."

Steve provides a hand for Peter to shake, and the vigilante does so willingly. The Captain vacates the complex not long after saying his goodbyes to the Asgardian and Banner respectively.

It is only now that Peter realizes how truly _exhausted_ this evening has been for him. Propping himself haphazardly on a lounge, stifling an overdrawn yawn which escapes his dry lips, Peter hears Bruce suddenly speak in a hushed whisper, "Don't worry about those two. Stars and Stripes doesn't trust the playboy, and the playboy rather _dislikes_ Stars and Stripes."

"I could gather that much," Peter replies smoothly, deciding not to pry.

A calm silence blankets the two, Banner quite enjoying the comfortable atmosphere.

After another moment or so Peter looks up at Bruce and says, "I know this isn't my place to ask, but-"

"Exposure to high levels of Gamma Radiation. Whenever Bruce gets angered or provoked... well, I'm sure you can gather what happens. The other guy comes out," Bruce completely cuts Peter off, knowing the question without needing to hear it.

Peter is immediately intrigued. "Gamma Radiation? How did you-"

It isn't Bruce who interrupts this time. Tony strolls toward the two, a possible ninth or tenth beer firmly in his grasp. "Sorry, kiddo, but it's getting kinda late. I'm afraid I have end the party before Pepper kicks me in the rear end."

Although Peter has no clue who Tony is referring to, he rises from the leather chair without question and nods in understanding.

"Thanks for having me. It's⋯honestly, tonight was great," Peter admits, bearing a broad smile from beneath the mask.

"Don't mention it. Pretty-boy insisted we have a gathering, and there's no better place for friends to meet than in Stark Tower," Tony cracks a lopsided smile. "I've even caught Legolas telling Miss Romanoff how you're always full of surprises, so I figured it was time to meet the man of the hour himself."

The two shake hands, and after one final goodbye to Bruce it's time to leave the complex.

Springing into the now almost unbearably chilly night air, Peter maneuvers himself into a perfect nosedive. The bustling, glowing streets below rise with each passing second, though Peter shoots a biocable which attaches to an unforeseen building, letting gravity propel him higher into the New York skyline.

 **xxx**

"I really like that guy," Bruce happily chirps, rising from his armchair while stretching several stiff limbs.

"Mhnm," Tony mumbles absentmindedly, focusing once more on his invaluable holographic documents which run from one arms-length to another.

"I _really_ want him to show me the webs. I mean, _seriously!_ The idea is just so - well, it's utterly _fascinating_."

"Yeah, he's definitely... different," Tony concludes, placing the half-consumed beer bottle onto a glass counter while deactivating the hologram projection. "I'm going home, Bruce; if I dawdle any longer Pepper will take the electromagnet from my chest."

"Gotcha, gotcha..." Bruce yawns, a wave half-heartedly aimed in Tony's direction. The billionaire simply nods, collects his keys and walks out onto the high-rise platform, a sparkly clean Mark 39 instantaneously attaching itself to the body of Tony Stark.

 _:::_

 _Remember to R/R! Otherwise I just become even more of a lazy slob.  
_

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :) I'm currently thinking over some possible plot plots and working on the direction the fic will now be headed, and I'm really excited. Big plans for this!_


	13. Late Night Bruises

_**Quick A/N** : This chapter is nearing the events of Winter Soldier, and is set around one month after our last chapter. _

_A Familiar Face_

Steve Rogers had pulverized the only remaining punching bag in the entire facility, meaning it was time to head home.

Taking a hasty shower and exchanging sweat-ridden gym clothes for normal civilian attire, he gathered his worn sports bag and made to leave the SHIELD training center, locking both doors behind him; it was admittedly a rather vacant area at four in the morning.

Within minutes Steve was strolling through New York's concrete streets, admiring the somewhat desolate path ahead; it would only be another hour or so before the entire block flooded with workers and tourists.

The Captain strolled in the direction of the modest apartment SHIELD had generously provided, opting to spend his time there as opposed to with SHIELD themselves; it wasn't immediately obvious, but Steve had taken notice to strange inconsistencies involving the entire organisation.

Something just felt peculiarly _off._

There was hardly any time to dwell on the matter, unfortunately enough. SHIELD had decided to issue Steve with a squad, sending the group on various missions in far-off locations.

It was the standard affairs; locating sought-after terrorist leaders, taking down bases loaded with highly-valuable information concerning SHIELD, eliminating whatever SHIELD saw fit.

The Captain obliged to any and all orders received; he was, after all, protecting the people and ensuring their long-lasting freedom.

Slowly Steve's thoughts turned to one individual in particular: the masked vigilante.

Since that night at Stark Tower, in which Spider-Man had been properly introduced to each and every member of the Avengers team, the Captain had set his sights on the training of the vigilante.

While admittedly the kid was adept in his own style of fighting, loving to flip and maneuver himself at impossible angles through the air while reigning a barrage of impossibly quick attacks on his enemies, it was obvious Spider-Man needed proper training.

Steve was prepared to provide the training, fully believing that Spider-Man could be shaped into a simply incredible _hero_.

The Captain had also sought the help of Clint, knowing how well the two trusted one another; the bond they shared wasn't hard to miss.

Both Avengers alternated each night, the war veteran focusing on the vigilante's agility, endurance and technique while the archer would attempt to perfect Spidey's reaction time and perception.

Unfortunately for Clint, the vigilante seemed to have mastered the training in little over a day; it was as if some sort of sense was built into Spider-Man's mind, instantaneously alerting him of danger whenever there _was_ danger.

' _The kid is certainly on his way to Avenger status_ ,' Steve thought, now only several blocks from the apartment. ' _We just need to make sure he-"_

The train of thought is completely interrupted as a shrill scream forces it's way into Steve's eardrums.

The Avenger turns without hesitation, sprinting in the direction of the blood-curdling shriek. He bolts down an entire street in seconds, eventually finding a lone alleyway.

It's almost completely pitch-black, the sun having not yet risen due to the early hour. Steve squints, though only the faintest shadow of a woman is seen in the near distance. He edges closer, a defensive stance overcoming his body.

"Ma'am?" Steve bellows, not daring to take his gaze from the shadowy figure.

The sports bag is still positioned comfortably around the war veteran, his trusted vibranium shield itching to be grasped.

Steve decides to waste no further time and takes into a sprint toward the woman; if she had already been attacked or injured he would have to alert the paramedics as soon as possible.

He's only feet away before the figure topples over, falling to the grimy floor. Steve notes the sound of wood smacking against the pavement.

The sound of _wood_.

Another sudden spine-chilling screech erupts into the air, though this time laughter and cackles follow.

From out the shadows of the alleyway step numerous thugs, crooks, muggers and killers.

Still squinting, the Captain notes around twenty shadowy figures surrounding both exits to the streets. The ambush had ensnared him.

"Lookie, lookie - we got ourselfs a hero!" one such criminal mutters, Steve noting the brandished knife.

Heaving an overdrawn sigh, the Captain dismisses his defensive stance and stands tall, broad arms now crossed.

"This is an awful lot of people. I wouldn't have expected it took twenty of you to take down one man," he speaks calmly, asserting authority and control in the smooth tone.

Another flurry of ridiculing mocks and laughter follows; this tests Steve's patience.

"We was expecting a group to come by; y'know, tourists and the like. They're usually dumb enough to walk around in the morning, looking at all the pretty lights," another whispers, the group edging closer to Steve with each passing second. "We're gonna give ya one chance to scurry outta here, alright? Wouldn't wanna ruin that face of yours..."

It was time to act.

In one swift motion the Captain clasps his shield, tugs it from the bag and raises it into position; the second any of these scumbags made a move, they would be knocked to the ground before they knew what hit them.

" _Crap,_ is that what I think it is-"

" _Hold_ the _hell_ up, it's Captain America-"

"He fought aliens and shit! We can't take him-"

Incessant arguing befalls the thugs. Steve shakes his head, ashamed to have been fooled by these morons.

"Look at that shield! Imagine how much it's worth!"

"He's one guy. It'll be easy to kick his ass! He's all alone!"

It appeared as though the criminals were ready to strike. All that was needed was the perfect opening for Steve to attack.

Recklessly rushing into a situation like this would be suicidal; for one, the lack of sunlight made the alley unbearably dark. Captain America was fighting shadows. Secondly, who knows what kind of weapons these guys possessed? For all he knew the crooks were holding guns right under their belts.

Although the situation was inarguably tense, Steve continued to keep a clear mind; the thugs were amateurs and afraid themselves, meaning the Captain was provided with an advantage.

Only seconds later Steve sees a figure rush forward from the corner of his eye, right arm raised.

In an instant the vibranium shield impacts against the attacker's rib cage, winding the poor man as he falls flat on the pavement.

And in this moment all hell breaks loose.

The remaining criminals lunge at Cap, knives and brass-knuckles firmly in hand. Some weapons connect with his body, though a majority are simply blocked by the shield as Steve wastes no time in knocking the thugs completely out cold.

Fists connect with unseen faces, vibranium rams into shadowy kneecaps, shrieks of fury and pain fill the silent night.

Only a minute later and five thugs remain, their faces swollen, jaws clenched in anger.

Steve is panting, noticing several blood-red patches littering his civilian attire.

"You're one slippery bugger," a shadow breaths heavily, sounding as if blood is pouring profusely from his mouth.

"And you're one unlucky criminal," Steve replies smoothly, unable to refrain the notes of anger from his voice.

Two attackers run toward Cap without hesitation, though the War Hero simply throws his shield square into the chest of one as it rebounds and crashes into the other.

Three remain.

The shield returns to Steve though he hurls the object almost a second later, catching the attackers off guard as they duck and roll, narrowly avoiding it's path.

Once again it lands in Steve's grasp, only seconds before the leader screams, "Jimmy, Slim, hurry up and _shoot the bastard_!"

"Crap," Steve curses, now crouched with the vibranium shield placed in a protective position over his body.

Seconds later a barrage of bullets mercilessly collide with the shield, Steve desperately scratching his mind for some semblance of an idea or plan.

Finally it hits him.

Inching the shield higher ever so slightly, the bullets ceasing to stop their furious downpour, Cap suddenly tilts the object at a perfect angle, ultimately shooting bullets _back_ at the thugs holding the firearms.

An instant later and somebody yelps, an audible _thud_ ringing into Steve's ears as another criminal hits the ground.

Two left.

It appeared luck was on the side of Captain America this morning. Clips were heard popping from their slots in the darkness directly ahead.

They were reloading.

Not wasting a single moment, he squints once more into the alleyway, catapulting the vibranium shield directly into the chest of a criminal. It collides instantaneously, knocking the fiend out.

One more.

"Take one step and your brains end up on the floor!"

The leader was closer to Steve than he would've ever expected, with what appeared to be a revolver in hand.

They were at a standoff.

The Captain straightens his stance, staring directly into the eyes of the attacker, facial features now being visible due to the limited space between them.

"Are you sure you _really_ wanna do this, kid?" Steve asks blankly, no emotion decipherable in his tone or face.

The kid takes a moment. It's obvious he's trembling, but the revolver is pointed directly at Steve's cranium. In order to take him out an opening was needed, followed through by precise timing and one quick attack.

"No way in hell I'm backing down now!" the leader hisses, fingers squeezing the trigger.

Steve sighs, silently wishing the kid would turn and leave; he looked young enough to be high-school graduate, and certainly deserved a better lifestyle than _this._

Maybe if Steve simply lowered his shield, allowing the boy a chance to leave, the entire situation would be resolved. Of course it seemed like a naive move to make, but it was better than dealing even _more_ damage. It was the better option over barbaric violence.

So the Captain followed through, lowering the vibranium object, not daring to take his gaze from the boy. The shield fell to the pavement.

Several moments of silence pass. The kid is obviously stunned.

Steve remains expressionless, waiting for any reaction.

The tranquility is suddenly broken as the boy releases a cold, heartless laugh. He straightens his shooting arm. Prepared for this, Cap is only a millisecond away from dodging the bullet before the revolver disappears into the night sky completely.

A web was seen carrying the firearm.

"Oh, what the fu-"

Before the mugger can finish his sentence Steve turns, kicks the shield from the pavement, seizes the object while it spins in mid-air, ducks forward and unleashes a powerful uppercut directly into the boy's jaw. The _pang_ of the shield rings throughout the pitch-black alley, followed by one final _thud_ as a body hits the concrete.

The fight was over.

Steve simply resumes panting, attempting to catch the air he never realised he'd released. The alley is quiet for a moment, no other signs of human life imminent.

At least until Spider-Man cascades toward the Captain from above, positioned upside-down on a web. It looked surreal, though Steve was admittedly used to the peculiar style of the vigilante by this point.

They're both silent at first, not quite sure what to say.

"I know that you probably didn't need my help, Captain - but _why_ weren't you holding your shield?" Spider-Man asks concernedly, an edge to his voice.

Steve doesn't reply for the moment, instead opting to crouch onto the pavement to reacquire his trusted vibranium shield. A reply is uttered only when he straightens up, gazing at the suited hero. "I thought - honestly, I don't know what I was thinking... I suppose I saw something in the kid."

Spider-Man glances toward the unconscious slumped body, noting how young the thug looked.

"You thought what, exactly?"

"That I could save him from wasting his life out here."

 **xxx**

The sun had only barely risen by the time the duo arrive at Steve's apartment, subduing the city in it's quiet dawn. The Captain let the soft amber glows pour through his fingers and onto his relaxed features, savoring the persimmon skies.

"You didn't have to escort me, Spider-Man. They only got a few hits on me."

Spidey's mask shoots in the direction of Steve, and the older veteran imagines a shocked expression on the kid's face.

"You were _bleeding_ all over the place! Of course I needed to make sure you were alright!" Spider-Man replies irritably, obviously very concerned over Steve's health.

A chuckle escapes the bloodied lips of Captain America, ruffling the vigilante's feathers to an even further extent.

"What's so funny about that?" the kid asks somewhat angrily, annoyed at how nonchalant Steve was acting with all things considered. Honestly, the entire scenario was no laughing matter.

"Oh, nothing, nothing..." Cap replies, glancing at the shimmering sky once more. "I'm just thinking about how _amazing_ you truly are."

 _:::_

 _Remember to R/R :)  
_

 _Also, for one reason or another the site refused to show this fic had been updated when the previous chapter was posted, so that was a bummer._

 _Anyhow, let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I love hearing what you have to say :)_


	14. Revelations

_A Familiar Face_

The days following Peter and Steve's alleyway rumble were overly monotonous.

The Avengers were scattered once more, seemingly doing whatever was needed on their part. Iron Man had yet to be spotted rocketing through the skyline, his absence quite curious considering the supercilious demeanor. Thor hadn't shown himself since Peter's introduction at Stark Tower, meaning the Norse God had likely returned to his own realm. Hawkeye and Black Window were tending to S.H.I.E.L.D matters, though their schedules appeared somewhat inconsistent; Clint's missions varied vastly from Natasha's, Peter gathered. Bruce had no way of contacting Spider-Man, so it wasn't a surprise to hear nothing at all from that particular Avenger; Peter was admittedly a little disappointed about this.

The only member able to consistently focus on the teenage vigilante was Captain America. Training took place twice a week, with the skilled veteran taking Peter through various courses built to test strength, agility and quick decision-making, though these sessions were the only time available for Peter to be around Steve; it appeared as though the war hero also had a full schedule, which isn't at all unexpected.

This meant that aside from the occasional petty mission as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, Peter was left completely to his own devices.

And by 'his _own devices'_ Peter actually meant attending school, finishing the jaw-droppingly large pile of homework which was due in the coming week, and _finally_ continuing his patrols as Spider-Man.

What a lovely thought.

The sounding of school bells rang into Peter's eardrums, completely shooting the teen back into reality, hazy eyes darting across the classroom.

Heaving a shaky sigh while rising to his feet, Peter slightly wobbles toward the door, attempting to rid the sleep from his body; last night was undoubtedly a brutal fight which lasted for hours on end, though the looming threat was finally defeated once Peter answered the final history question and tossed the poor textbook back into the depths of his schoolbag.

Fighting super-villains was a piece of cake compared to droning over Mr. Fletcher's needlessly tedious and _boring_ assignments.

A slight nudge to the shoulder brought Peter's attention back to the events unfolding around him, the teen momentarily confused as to what exactly just happened.

Missy Kallenback, a social outcast like Peter himself, was rubbing her temple, a frown on her face.

"S-sorry ⋯ I wasn't looking ⋯" she blurts, obviously exasperated and at a loss for words; Peter notices her embarrassment but doesn't bring it up, instead acting as if he never detecting anything.

"Oh - no, that was my fault. I wasn't paying attention," Peter reassures her, brandishing a smile. She nods, the redness in both cheeks slowly fading.

They stand only feet away from the classroom door, neither knowing exactly how to end the conversation until Peter is struck with a perfervid thought.

"So, hey ⋯ I know this really isn't my business but... is _Flash_ still giving you trouble?"

Even months after the backboard debacle, Peter still vividly remembers Eugene Thompson purposely ruining Missy's poster and later attempt at hitting Missy with a basketball entirely.

Although Eugene and Peter were, in a sense, now close friends, it still didn't give the jock a free pass to torment other students. Missy was no exception.

Her speech falters for a moment, though eventually the young woman responds, "Here and there. He's just ⋯ I don't know. _Being Flash_."

Peter shakes his head, now somewhat irritated. "Yeah, but that doesn't give him the right to - to make fun of people. Nobody deserves that."

A quizzical look is shot Peter's way, though the expression is quickly replaced by a small, glowing smile. Missy's eyes are now focused on Peter's, who is currently gazing absent-mindedly at nothing in particular.

"I'm not sure you can do anything about it. He's been like this for ⋯ I don't even know, to be honest," she's speaking clearly now, conversing with Peter as if they'd been close friends for years; this was quite a rare feeling for both teens.

Breaking off his distant glare, instead now focusing on Missy, Peter nods and says, "I'll speak to Flash. What he's doing - it isn't right. You don't deserve any of that."

For a moment she's simply speechless, not quite believing the words which entered her ears, though eventually Missy nods and shoots one final smile at Peter before turning to leave for her next class. The gesture is admittedly awkward and somewhat unsure of itself, but it brightens Peter up nonetheless.

 **xxx**

The final period of the day is devoted entirely to Science with Mrs. Hopkins. Peter heads to his locker in order to gather the required books before stopping dead in his tracks, a peculiar beeping sounding from his jean pocket; the S.H.I.E.L.D burner phone.

Silently cursing, retrieving the device and scanning the encrypted text, Peter reads, ' _South-West loading bay. Furthermost from Empire State. Ten minutes.'_

Scoffing irritably while tossing to the floor his trusted skateboard, Peter rolls out of Midtown High and into the thankfully deserted local streets, ducking behind a building and emerging as Spider-Man only seconds later, now swinging toward the Queensboro bridge.

Although saving people was an essential part of Peter's day-to-day life, skipping Science altogether was a shame for all but one reason; Gwen Stacy would be in attendance.

While no longer in a relationship, the two still talk regularly and have grown closer as friends in the months following Curt Connors' attack on Oscorp Tower.

Peter would need to text her after the S.H.I.E.L.D matter was resolved, explaining why he couldn't partner up today using some unutilized excuse.

For the third experiment in a row.

She wasn't going to be overly ecstatic.

Arriving at the location _slightly_ over ten minutes later, the red and blue clad vigilante lands in a crouch while observing the imminent surroundings; a vacant, run-down port encased by shabby, demolished structures which once resembled buildings.

Peter stands silent for a moment, hearing the calm, lapping ocean just meters beyond the port. Aside from that, everything is eerily devoid of sound.

Another ten minutes pass. He's growing increasingly irritable by the second.

After another few moments with nothing but unwavering silence from SHIELD, Peter turns to leave, scoffing as he goes.

A web is shot and Spider-Man leaps into the air, propelling himself skyward before the infamous tingling of his _spidey sense_ alerts Peter of the incoming explosive arrow.

Narrowly dodging the projectile in mid-air, Peter maneuvers himself while descending from the sky, landing on a separate building altogether. Milliseconds later the projectile collides with the skeleton of a building only meters away, an explosion ringing into the once quiet atmosphere, flames enveloping the area.

"What the hell-"

Another flurry of arrows is fired, Peter estimating at least _four_ as he springs from his perch, flipping and leaping from structure to structure, not daring to stop for anything, intense fire piercing the once chilled air.

The following eruptions are unbearably loud, though thankfully well out of Peter's way. Landing once more into a defensive crouching stance, Spidey searches for the perpetrator, lenses quickly falling onto a lone figure in the near distance.

 _Clint_.

" _W-what the hell was-_ "

" _Quiet, Spider_!" the archer interjects, an arrow ready to be fired if need be. "SHIELD is currently under the false idea that we're locked in field training. There's a limited window presented to us."

Everything is moving too fast. Peter feels light-headed; vertiginous.

"I ⋯ don't understand-"

Hawkeye interrupts again, ordering, " _DODGE_ _IT_!" as an arrow is sent flying at Peter, an unbelievable level of speed behind the bloody thing.

Spidey sense kicks in. Peter is eyeing the projectile, noting how only centimeters separate his head from the arrow. It's rocketing toward a direct point between the eyes.

Spider-Man shifts his neck only slightly, the arrow _barely_ missing it's mark before colliding into a distant structure, a rippling explosion of debris and fire now born into the world.

Peter is furious.

"You missed," he breathes, strolling firmly toward the Avenger, millions of distant questions pervading his buzzing mind.

"I was hoping to miss," Clint replies stiffly, bow still raised threateningly. "Understandably, you have a whole lot of questions-"

"Explain why you just attempted to _kill me_ , please."

"In the event that S.H.I.E.L.D is partially monitoring this whole _event_ , I needed to fabricate-"

Peter chuckles darkly, index finger pointed quite firmly at the archer. "Get to the point."

Sighing deeply, Clint retracts the bow and eyes the surrounding area. Nodding, he glances back at Spider-Man, whispering concernedly, "Natasha works directly with Director Fury for a substantial portion of her missions. She's close with him."

Peter lowers his arm slightly, listening intently, somewhat ashamed at his violent outburst.

Clint continues firmly, "Fury is very fond of control; he likes to know everything about everybody. You've been a surprising exception. He's not only allowed you into SHIELD as an agent, but has given you full access to all facilities _and_ sent you on missions. You're special. But ⋯ well, you're _too_ special. Natasha believes more information needs to be provided before you continue any further."

"So ⋯ she doesn't trust me?" Peter asks, head now spinning.

"Look - she doesn't trust _many_ people, but she's fond of you. With all things considered, there's absolutely nothing negative to put on your report."

"But?"

"⋯ But, since the night you bested Cap one-on-one, she's been cautious, wanting to inform Fury, hoping to pass on information regarding you, letting the Director know what he's got on his hands. This is all purely in the event that-"

"- In the event that I go rogue, right? Leave SHIELD, blurt all their secrets out to the world? You ⋯ you're figuring out my weaknesses, aren't you? Finding my limitations!" Peter is practically seething, Clint looking dejected; dispirited.

The Avenger takes moment to reply. When he finally does, the emotion in his tone is raw and disheartened. "Listen, kid ⋯ none of this is my idea. Since that night with Cap, I've been telling Natasha to hold off. She's doing as I say for now, but you're continuing to prove yourself - continuing to show everyone how _sensational_ you can be. She believes that power can be dangerous in the wrong hands. Natasha is only taking necessary precautions-"

"With great power comes great _responsibility_ ," Peter speaks suddenly, clearly, without missing a beat. "Someone once told me that ⋯ he said I had a moral obligation to do the right thing. To _help_ those in need. Because I have the _power_ to do it."

Clint is taken aback.

Only the crackling of distant flames is heard for a moment, both heroes comfortable in the warm, calming atmosphere.

Clint is the first to speak, breaking their silence. "I won't let the Director get a hold on you; not while you're still one of the good guys, at least. You can count on that."

Peter simply nods, turning away from the stiff Avenger, gazing at the far-off city of Manhattan. "Thank you, Hawkeye."

"Just know that the moment any toes step outta line, Natasha will be on your ass before you have a chance swing to safety," Clint somewhat chuckles, shaking his head before turning to leave the area.

The sounds of webbing enters the archer's ears, and he's alone once again.

 **xxx**

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Nick Fury tears his gaze from the window, gesturing for Steve Rogers to take a seat.

"There's a few matters we need to discuss."

"Concerning Spider-Man? Sir, meaning no disrespect, I believe the kid is exceptional in almost every aspect-"

"This isn't about the kid. There's something bigger that needs attending to," Fury speaks coarsely, leaning into his desk chair. "A S.H.I.E.L.D vessel has been taken hostage. Georges Batroc and his mercenaries are to blame. I'm sending you with the S.T.R.I.K.E team tonight."

 _:::_

 _If you enjoyed, pretty-please leave a review. You know how much us writers love feedback.  
_

 _Speaking of feedback, it's great to see so many readers enjoying the fic so far. This story is great fun to write, so I'm glad it's fun to read. (Note: we're now moving into Winter Soldier territory. Spidey's gonna have a crazy time in the upcoming chapters) Thank you all :)_


	15. A Technological Threat

_A Familiar Face_

" _Peter!_ "

His head shoots up instantly, half the class turning to snicker at the bewildered and weary teenage boy. He sees Gwen shake her head irritably from the corner of his eye, an annoyed expression replacing her features.

"If you fall asleep _one_ more time, I won't be waking you up," she tries to sound angry, though her whispers come out concerned; worried.

"Mmsorrygwen," Peter yawns, rubbing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes.

"How long were you out last night?"

"On patrol?" Peter whispers, racking his brains; yesterday evening was definitely a rough night for the masked vigilante. S.H.I.E.L.D's burner phone simply wouldn't stop beeping.

On the bright side, many innocent lives were saved. On the down side, Peter had no sleep whatsoever.

"You were out all night, weren't you?" Gwen tuts, looking into Peter's eyes.

"Possibly," he nods. "What class are we in?"

"Science App. The important one."

"Ah." Peter replies simply, resting his heavy head on the desk once again as his eyes slowly close.

 **xxx**

"You really need to stop devoting entire nights to Spider-Man."

The two are walking down a school corridor toward their next class, Peter now somewhat awake.

The hardest part about working for S.H.I.E.L.D was the secrecy; Gwen couldn't know anything, though Peter was glad she would be left out of the loop.

Gwen Stacy would be put in no further danger if he could help it.

"You know how dangerous the New York nightlife is. I _swear_ these goons need to come up with a more creative plan than ' _rob a convenience store_.'"

"You just - you need to be careful, Peter. Things are getting out of control these days," Gwen looks at him directly. "Did you see the news this morning? There's this guy - calling himself _the Mandarin_ or something - causing a string of bombings. There's no forensic evidence or _anything_ on the guy!"

Peter vaguely remembers asking Clint where Tony Stark had been for the past few weeks, though the archer simply informed him that ' _he's out chasing a terrorist.'_

Only days later and Tony's home was completely abolished. Nobody has heard from him since.

Peter's throat tightens.

"I'll be fine, Gwen. You don't have to worry about me at all," he tells her, attempting to soothe her anxiety.

She visibly drops her shoulders, looking less rigid as the day goes by.

Hours pass. The sun dips below the horizon, and Peter is enveloped the blackness of night. He smiles.

Spider-Man is prowling the skyscrapers of New York once more. Within moments, the burner phone goes off again.

"What have you got for me tonight, New York?" he breathes, leaping from the tallest point of the Empire State Building, plummeting at insurmountable speeds toward the cool concrete streets below. Wind ripples against the suit, Peter's skin drops to chilling temperatures, pedestrians notice the falling figure, and he feels utterly alive.

In mere minutes, the building was in sight; several police copters were shining their lights onto the floor where the hostages were being kept, giving Peter a good indication of where he was needed. He shot a biocable from both hands, each one attaching themselves to the building under siege, and used all the strength he could muster to fling himself forwards through the cold night air.

He was practically flying face first into the building, not thinking about the consequences or dangers that were waiting for him. He could hear police officers shouting something into their microphones, but only indecipherable noise blared into Peter's ears.

He landed on a wall several floors above the where the crime was currently underway, opting to catch the criminals by surprise.

Smashing a window, Peter climbs into a deserted floor lined with cubicles upon cubicles of computers and office desks.

The police continued to yell into their speakers from outside, but still Peter ignored them; he knew he could handle whatever criminals were lurking in the shadows. He also knew that they would open fire on the vigilante as soon as the chance presented itself.

Without wasting another moment, fearing for the lives of those in danger, Peter sets his sights on a distant elevator.

He makes his way over, opening the metal doors using his super-strength. The elevator shaft is empty, giving Peter the exact path he needs.

 **xxx**

"I said _don't move!_ " a heavy accent yells as a rather large group of office workers are forced into a corner, cowering.

"How are the diamonds, Sergai?" comes another voice, equally Russian in tone.

Peter crawls down the shaft, listening intently as voices fill his ears. Finally he reaches the correct floor, opening the doors before continuing along the walls. Spider-Man is silent, eyeing the crime scene from above as he latches onto the ceiling, waiting to strike.

"Focus on the hostages," the leader exclaims simply, Peter noting his attempts to open a wide-reaching sized safe. "And _please_ refrain from using my name."

Instantly Peter notices their attire; the three criminals are suited in highly advanced armor, their bodies coated with some metallic substance as several sections glow in distinct neon patterns. Each member holds an equally advanced-looking rifle, significant in size.

The next thing Peter sets his sight on are the hostages - all _twenty_ of them.

A few have already noticed his presence. Peter lifts a single index finger, placing it over his mouth. They seem to understand, as they look away from the ceiling and toward the criminals.

The Russians each have a color assigned to their neon patterns; One is blue, one is green, and the leader is enveloped in a violet hue.

Now was the time to act.

Peter shoots a web which attaches to one of the high-tech rifles, yanking it to the air and subsequently attaching it to the roof.

The three baddies turn, their faces and voices masked by robotic helmets.

"Ah! The spider! I thought you would never show," the violet imbued villain declares, turning to the ceiling.

"So, whadda I call you dweebs? The Three Racketeers? Major Tom and his Ground Control?"

Blue aims a rifle at Peter. "Get the diamonds. I'll kill the bug."

"Could you repeat that, Tin Man? I'm sorry, but your robotic helmet combined with the thick Russian accent is _really_ hard to decipher," Peter jokes, trying to agitate the villains; he needs to draw their attention away from the innocent civilians.

Suddenly his spider-sense goes off, _hard_.

An eruption of sonic sound practically launches from the rifle, Peter unable to completely dodge the blast; it almost covered the entire floor.

He lands on the carpeted ground, a deep groan escaping his lips.

Violet chuckles. "You see, we've been watching the way you fight - the _criminals_ you fight. They all possess guns and grenades and knives. Bah! What insolence!" He edges closer to the helpless Peter, motioning for his buddies to continue their heist. The safe will be open any minute now. "They thought they could take down _the_ Amazing Spider-Man with simple _bullets_!"

Suddenly Peter leaps from the flooring, flipping in the air as he lands in the signature Spidey crouching position. "I'm flattered," he mutters, ignoring the intense bodily pains.

Only one blast and he was completely winded. Peter needed to tread carefully.

"Sonic blasters," the leader lifts his rifle. "They seem to be working perfectly."

A quick glance at the civilians floods Peter with relief; none were affected by the weapon.

He turns his attention back toward the leader. "Why don't we take this outside? I'm getting a little cramped."

"Pterodax stay together," Violet chuckles, unleashing another halacious blast, though Peter anticipates this and leaps out the way. Cubicles are utterly destroyed as Spidey shoots two biocables at the leader, using the force to propel forward.

He lands directly on the criminal and kicks with all his strength, knocking the high-tech goon out of the skyscraper window.

Before Peter can stop the fall, the ' _Pterodax_ ' chief flies back into the building, propelled by some sort of jet pack contraption.

Several sonic blasts erupt. Peter flips, dodges, leaps, scurries, crawls and evades any and all oncoming damage before all three Pterodax members enter the fray, one landing a punch square on Peter's jaw.

They're quick as hell.

Blue uses his jet pack to fly forward at an intense speed, Spidey unable to retaliate as he's encased in a terribly painful bear-hug. They crash through another window and into the freezing night sky.

Police choppers aim their searchlights at the two figures, doing nothing to intervene.

"I hoped you would have put up more of a fight, little spi-"

The mercenary is unable to finish his sneering jest. Peter's elbow collides directly with the robotic helmet, breaking a large portion completely off. The goon is knocked out completely.

The two begin to fall at increasingly disastrous speeds.

Peter manages to release himself from the embrace, shooting several webs between Blue and the building wall, stopping the fall in it's tracks.

One down.

Using another round of biocables, Peter flies gracefully into the skyline toward the remaining Pterodax members.

Green is waiting, and upon seeing Peter he rockets in a downward spiral, shooting unwavering blasts of raw sonic power at the hero.

It's harder to dodge while in the sky, though Peter does everything super-humanly possible to evade the unrelenting rifle blasts.

One shockwave finally hits Peter, and everything fades to black.

He is falling.

Police microphones blare from all directions. Or is it from just one particular spot?

His ears are ringing.

What _are_ ears? ' _The organ of hearing and balance in humans and other vertebrates.'_ Yes, Peter learnt that from somewhere.

Where?

School? Was it school?

Gwen was at school today. He thinks. Maybe.

Yes, she was. He remembers perfectly clearly.

Clearly.

Peter's senses are clearing.

Everything is returning. Flurries of unrelenting sound and color invade his vision.

He's on the ground, noting several dozen police officers skulking forward. Glaringly annoying lights pollute the scene behind them.

Captain Stacy is watching Peter from the crowd. He nods.

Peter nods back.

Not wasting another millisecond he hoists himself onto wobbly legs and jumps into the air once more, a biocable launching from aching wrists.

Peter reenters the building through an already demolished window, catching the attention of Blue and Violet.

Several dozen diamonds are held between the two. "It's too late, spider! Until we meet again!" the leader exclaims before rocketing away; fleeing.

Peter simply refuses to let these menaces escape, and so he runs forward, recklessly, and leaps directly onto the back of the Pterodax leader.

They tumble and swerve in the air, Peter desperately avoiding the flames of the jet pack as he unleashes a flurry of fits directly into the body of the villain.

Spider-senses blare.

Peter looks up, seemingly in slow motion, at the other member of Pterodax; the one aiming a rifle directly at the two.

Everything that could possibly go wrong currently _is_ going wrong.

Until something small, something indescribable, collides with the mercenaries' helmet and his entire high-tech suit suddenly shuts down.

He plummets from the air, diamonds now falling unceremoniously from the sky. The sudden shock takes Peter aback, until he realizes that the leader still needs a butt-kicking.

The violet Pterodax member is shocked too, completely forgetting about the entire situation, until one final punch from Spider-Man knocks him out cold.

All three have been taken care of.

Peter webs the villains, stopping their fall, before fleeing the area completely; the police would take care of the rest, and he _seriously_ didn't feel like being shot at again.

As he flies through the skyline, Peter takes once quick glance at the surrounding area. In the corner of his eye he sees a shadowy figure perched on a distant building, though an instant later it disappears.

He only stops swinging once a few blocks have been put between himself and the crime scene. He collapses on the roof of some unforeseen building, coughing and spluttering.

It's only ten minutes later before Peter properly accesses the battle.

And suddenly his entire body turns cold.

 _He laid eyes on the deceased Captain Stacy_.

 **xxx**

Natasha Romanoff disassembles her EMP-imbued sniper rifle.

Thanks to her, the kid had been saved; a moment later and Peter would have been hit with yet another sonic blast.

She tuts, a smirk on her face.

While bearing undeniably impressive skills for someone of his age, Spider-Man still had _much_ to learn.

"I've helped you this once, kid. But with enough training you wouldn't have needed my help. You need to train harder."

With these words, she turns and leaves the premises.

* * *

 _A/N_ : Hey guys. Just wanted to stop by and give my thanks for the endless condolences you have given for me and my family. Unfortunately, as most of you know, my mother passed away recently.

I won't get into any details, but just know that you guys were really amazing during my mourning period. I'm still in shock, and honestly I won't ever get over the entire ordeal. But thank you for your kind words nonetheless.

ANYWAY. How did you like the chapter? Review the hell outta this fic, let me know what you like, blah blah blah. Also, if you are a _true_ fan of Spidey, you might remember who Pterodax are. That's right, they're actual villains!

 **-FinallShadoww**


	16. Stark Contrast, Part One:

_A Familiar Face_

"Stark's been found," Clint exclaims, turning to face the group.

Peter, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner look up quizzically.

"You mean he's alive?" Black Widow says slowly.

"Seems so," the archer simply nods, "Director Fury just sent through some immediate details. Seems the president and Iron Patriot are involved, too." He suddenly looks befuddled.

"What is it, Clint?" Steve asks concernedly, leaning forward absentmindedly in his chair.

"Get on board the Quinjet. We have a mission," Hawkeye turns to leave the room. "I'll patch through the details. Come on."

"W-wait! A mission?" Bruce asks worriedly, staring wide-eyed at his fellow teammates.

"Don't worry, Brucie. The big boys'll take this one," Natasha says with a wink, though only Peter catches that small detail.

"Spider-Man, Romanoff, Barton. Let's go," Steve calls, and their small, odd team is suddenly assembled.

 **xxx**

"We're around twenty minutes off deployment," the Captain declares, now in his trusted S.T.R.I.K.E uniform. Peter must admit it looks rather nice, and is beginning to consider making some modifications on his own red and blue spandex.

"Everyone sort through the details?" Clint asks over the Quinjet engines. "We're getting dropped off at an impounded oil rig. It's believed the US president is somewhere inside the facilities. We find him, deal with any threats, and _leave_ at once. This isn't some throwaway mission. This is serious business."

The men nod, though Natasha is staring blankly out of a window, observing the empty ocean below.

Clint returns to his seat beside Peter, placing a comforting hand on the arachnid's shoulder. He still remembers the first time they boarded an aircraft together.

"You feeling okay?"

Peter looks up and nods. "Yeah, actually. I think I've gotten used to being around you guys."

The archer knows this isn't exactly what he meant when asking, though he doesn't push further. The kid has some issues which he would deal with on his own. Clint never was good at understanding people, but he worried about his comrades nonetheless.

"This is a pretty significant mission, huh?" Clint exhales a sigh, leaning back comfortable in his seat. "Trust Tony to drag the president of the United States into his antics."

"What do you think is on that rig? Some crooks powerful enough to kidnap _the_ president must be dangerous."

Clint simply shakes his head. "Neither Fury nor SHIELD's intelligence agencies know exactly what's happened. But we do know Air Force One got shot down only hours ago."

Steve suddenly bursts into the conversation, his calm, authoritative tone calming Peter's nerves only slightly. "Footage captured Tony saving a dozen or so Air Force personnel. We believe the Iron Patriot kidnapped President Ellis and flew him to this remote oil rig."

"Any idea why the Patriot would do something like that? Isn't he _serving_ the US army?" Natasha asks rather boredly.

Steve shoots a glance at her and says, "No clue."

"So we're flying blindly into battle?"

"That's correct."

"Just the way I like it," she smiles, her attention back to the window.

Steve chuckles slightly, seemingly less tense.

The team remain quiet for another ten minutes or so before Pequod, their pilot, informs them of the imminent oil rig. It was time to prepare.

Peter doesn't _exactly_ carry a ton of equipment in or around his spandex suit, so he simply sits tight as the other Avengers assort their gear and adjust anything that needed to be adjusted.

Before he has a chance to register what's happening, Natasha is sitting beside him with a small smile playing at her lips.

"Listen," she begins, turning to face Peter's mask, "I know I'm not exactly the most welcoming of our merry crew, but you have to understand things around here aren't exactly _lax_. I just -" she pauses, visibly choosing her words, "I've seen some things while on the job. Spies. Comrades turning on comrades. Murders. Entire operations falling apart because someone couldn't carry their weight, or because someone wasn't intending to finish the operation in the first place." Her lips twitch into another noticeably sad smile.

Peter is taken aback, stunned, though he wastes no time in offering a hand for her to shake. "It's fine. I - I know I'm not exactly the easiest to trust. You know, with the mask and all."

She nods, still smiling solemnly, and shakes his gloved hand. "You're a strong fighter. I suppose I wanted to make sure you were worthy of Avenger status, but deep down I always knew you could become one of the best. Now is your chance to prove me right."

"Spider-Man," Steve interjects, and Peter takes a moment to turn his attention to the Captain; honestly, he's speechless. "Whoever your family are, wherever they are - they'd be exceptionally proud of you."

 **xxx**

"This is Pequod! Arriving shortly at LZ. Please stand by!"

They stand together, awaiting the opening of the Quinjet's doors.

"This is Pequod! Have arrived at LZ. Good luck, Avengers."

"You hear that, Spidey?" Clint slaps his back firmly, "You're an Avenger."


	17. Stark Contrast, Part Two:

_A Familiar Face_

Peter Parker - _Avenger_. The title felt powerful, meaningful.

Well, technically he was _Spider-Man_ the Avenger, though both were perfectly fine.

The instant Peqoud hovered close enough to the oil rig's surface, the team dropped dutifully into the battlefield.

"You remember what we've been planning? Our little _Evening Lights_?" Steve Rogers whispered firmly to Spidey, his shield clasped rigidly.

"Yessir," Peter nods. _Evening Lights_ is the term used for military rescue operations while under the cover of darkness, or under the night sky itself. Steve frequently went on these missions with his S.T.R.I.K.E unit.

"Just like we practiced, kid."

Peter nods again, shivering; spandex isn't exactly the best at insulating warmth.

"You'll warm up once we start kicking ass," Clint smirks with a nudge, and without any further hesitation the group split and travel in separate directions.

Peter distances himself from the ground, instead opting to leap silently and gracefully onto a distant crane in order to survey the area.

"Whatcha see, Spidey?" Natasha breaths through the earpiece.

"Just - wait a minute." There are faint figures walking across the platforms and along the surface of the rig. "I see people. They look like regular guys and gals."

"Civilians?" Steve questions, and Peter sees him edging closer toward the figures.

"Don't think we can afford to take chances here, Steve," Clint begins. "I can take out a few from my perch - you'll be able to move in closer, find the president quicker."

"Do it," the Captain orders quietly.

Before Hawkeye even has a chance to extend his bow, a rumbling is heard in the far off distance, growing louder and louder with each passing second.

Steve muffles a swear from his earpiece before irritably mumbling, "Tony."

Not a second later the entire night sky is polluted with dozens upon dozens of Iron-Man suits, each different from the other. They fly frantically before settling into a complete circle around the rig.

"I count fifty-six suits," Clint exclaims through his microphone. "Guy's been busy."

"Well, it's always good to have a hobby," Steve Rogers mutters, and Peter watches in awe as the Captain rushes forward seemingly out of nowhere, taking down three distracted figures without hesitation.

Peter almost laughs in awe, before realizing the figures are returning to their feet.

And shooting fire.

"Knew this was almost too easy," the Captain chuckles darkly before engaging the fiery men and women in combat.

"I'm coming to help!" Peter shouts and leaps from the crane, shooting a web in the direction of the far-off battle.

"Kid, watch out-"

Natasha's warning wasn't quick enough, and Spidey's senses were already blaring madly.

Peter was bombarded with fireballs and metal debris from all directions only an instant later, his web cut clean in half by the flames.

He plummets for a split second before turning to fire another web, though an entire batch of flame-soldiers tackle him as they fall from fifty meters in the air.

"You guys are - _augh_ \- kinda shooting fire from your hands and I _seriously_ think you needa - _OUCH_ \- get that checked out!"

Shooting another sturdy web, Peter escapes their grasp but lands clumsily on the ground. Once quick glances alerts him of flaming attackers surrounding the area.

"Alright, so... what is this? Invulnerable, fire-breathing terrorists?"

None speak, but some lurch forward with their heated fists and attempt to knock the consciousness directly out of Peter.

Luckily, though, they don't have the reflexes and agility of a super-powered spider.

Peter dodges, lands a right hook, dodges again, plants a deadly front-kick, dodges once more, slams an elbow into someone's face; everything is utterly chaotic.

"Hey, kid!" Clint yells from some unseen direction.

"Yeaahh?!" Peter exclaims loudly, correctly dodging and pummeling yet another unrelenting terrorist.

"Duck!"

Peter ducks.

Several arrows land directly in the chest of some soldiers.

Peter turns on the spot and yells, "Whaaatt noww?!"

"You should probably run!"

Peter runs.

The terrorists suddenly explode into a cloud of electricity which take them right out of the fight.

Peter leaps upward to Hawkeye's perch and lands rather unceremoniously.

"What the heck is happening?!"

"Are you referring to the fifty Iron-Man suits which are miraculously exploding everywhere, the unkillable, on-fire terrorists or the currently chained up president?"

"I think I'm talking about all of the above," Peter replies breathlessly.

"Well," Clint turns to face Peter's mask directly while still firing arrows at random terrorists, "Steve found the president tied between some oil derricks. He's working with the Iron Patriot to retrieve him."

"The Iron-Patri-What?"

"Beats me," Clint continues, still shooting arrows without the need to look where he's shooting. "Tony's flying around here somewhere, looking for a _Miss Pepper Potts._ Ginger hair, can't miss her. He needs some help, kid, cause this rig sure as hell won't stay standing for much longer."

"Okay," Peter says breathlessly, "Okay, gotcha."

"You're an Avenger, now. Go kick some ass."

Spider-Man slings a web and propels skyward, the cold wind no longer deterring him as he races to aid Tony Stark.

Fire is hurled in his direction, suits explode from all angles, his spandex suit continues to give him unbearable wedgies, and yet he lets nothing slow his progress.

More flame-soldiers launch themselves at the red-and-blue hero, only to earn a swift kick to the face, their screams echoing as they plummet into the cold ocean below.

"These lunatics are crazy, guys," Peter exclaims into his earpiece.

"Any sign of Tony?"

"Not yet, Cap. I can't tell which suit he's in."

"Iron Patriot and I have almost secured the president. Keep -"

Everything turns silent.

Peter hears but one sound, and one sound only.

The screams of a woman are audible in the distance, her throat tightened, her voice cracking.

Peter turns in mid-air, squinting.

Ginger haired woman, slipping out from under a pile of debris.

Fifty meters in the air.

Tony isn't in his suit. She won't survive that fall.

Peter is her last hope.

Suddenly an explosion erupts and Pepper Potts is falling wildly to her death, Tony watching in horror.

Forty meters.

Thirty meters.

Twenty.

Fifteen.

Peter plummets after her rag-dolling body, rushing into the fiery abyss of destruction below.

He's on fire.

His suit is irrevocably and undeniably in flames.

But he's holding the hand of Pepper Potts.

Peter lands harshly on his back as she lands softly on the floor beside him, webs hoisting her, saving her.

Peter is struggling to breath, but it'll pass.

It's just some pain. Pain always passes, eventually.

 **xxx**

I've seen Civil War twice already, and I loved it both times. Such a great film. Please try to keep the review section spoiler-free. Thanks guys. R/R please.


	18. Stark Contrast, Part Three:

A Familiar Face

"You saved her life."

"Well, yeah - what else would I have done?"

"I don't know," Tony ponders this for a moment, leaning back in his uncomfortable leather chair. "Not many people I know of would throw themselves into a fiery explosion in order to save someone they've never met. I would've never expected to see it coming from a kid, either."

Peter chuckles somewhat weakly. "I'm not that young. I'm -"

"You're young. I'd say... sixteen, seventeen. Something around that."

Peter says nothing, instead focusing on the tiled floor, away from Tony's steely eyes.

"I saved her because it's my job to help those in need. Age doesn't mean anything when there's lives in danger."

It's Tony's turn to stay silent. Both men sit across from one another, Peter on a hospital bed. The burns and scalding from the oil rig fire required some SHIELD medical attention, though Peter's increased healing rate did the bulk of the work.

Tony nods ever so slightly. "Why do you do it?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you feel obligated to save lives? Don't you have school? A family? People who love you and need you? Why have you made it your personal goal to dress in pajamas and swing around a crime invested city on the daily?"

Peter answers almost instantly, "When you can do the things I can, and bad things happen because you don't, it's on you. I... struggle to deal with that. The past is the past, and we can never change that. I stand for what the Avengers stand for - shaping a better future."

Tony understands completely. _When you can do the things I can, and bad things happen because you don't, it's on you._

He relates on an almost incomprehensible scale.

"Well - well, good job last night. Cap and Rhodie managed to get the president to safety. The rest of us disposed of the biological threats."

Peter laughs. "You mean the flaming dudes?"

"The fire-breathing, invulnerable, athletic and suicidal terrorist threats, yeah," Tony half-smiles before awkwardly rising to his feet.

"Wish I was there to help."

"Don't fall outta consciousness next time, kiddo," the older man walks toward the door, his back turned to Peter.

"Hey, uh - Mister Stark?"

Tony stops walking, though doesn't face Peter.

"Hawkeye mentioned something about your suits earlier. Did something happen?"

Tony turns his body upon hearing this, a small smirk playing at his lips, cuts and abrasions evident across his face. "Let's just say my little hobby got out of control and I have tons more space in the office now."

And with these words the billionaire playboy leaves the medical bay.

 **xxx**

Bruce Banner enters the Avengers Tower Workshop, which has become been known as Tony Stark's home away from home.

Sure enough, Tony is looking over various schematics from within his fortress of solitude, making calibrations to a very odd-looking suit which lies hung and incomplete in the center of the room.

"A little small, don't ya think?" Banner queries jokingly, easily noticing the small frame of the suit. "I'm guessing it's not for you."

Tony simply continues to make changes to his work while saying, "It's for the kid. He needs something more. You can't be an Avenger running around in a onesie."

"Generous. So, what's the final product supposed to look like?"

Tony absentmindedly opens several other holograms which show a striking Spider-Man suit, worthy of any Avenger. "It's a systematic change. 100%, top to bottom. Hundred-point restoration."

"I'm guessing you're not gonna add rocket thrusters or missiles?"

Tony looks up at Bruce. "No, but I'm upgrading his little... web-thingies. I'm guessing he calls 'em 'web-shooters,' or something equally as innuendo-worthy as that."

"Ahh, so they'll be powered from within the suit itself? He'll never run out of webbing?"

Tony smiles. "You've been keeping an eye on him too, huh?"

Bruce returns the grin. "It fascinates me that the mind of such a young teenager could create something like - like _this_. He's out fighting super-villains with homemade web-shooters, climbing up buildings and flying through skylines. It's -"

"It's dangerous and pretty stupid, but that's why I'm helping him. Going down this Avenger route will only bring more danger to him."

Bruce paces around the workshop, inspecting various designs and further schematics. He takes a moment to speak again.

"You know who he is, don't you?"

Tony stops his calibrations. "Yeah. Of course."

"You've been spying. I knew it," Bruce Banner chuckles somewhat nervously.

Tony's features turn steely as he looks toward the scientist. "I keep tabs on particular items of interest, Bruce. Vigilantes in our city is a pretty big topic to cover."

Bruce nods absentmindedly. "How long have you been studying him?"

Tony Stark sighs and whisks away his holograms. "The bridge incident with the cars. I started there and figured out the kid's name and address fairly easily. He doesn't exactly keep a low profile."

"Jesus, Tony," Bruce says breathlessly.

"Look, I'm _trying_ to help the boy."

They stand in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to one another.

Bruce is the first to speak up. "Does Fury know? Anyone else from SHIELD?"

"No idea. My guess is a probable yes, but if they haven't divulged that information to the rest of the Avengers, I'd say they want his identity to remain undisclosed."

Bruce just looks distant. "Well - yeah, alright. Fine. Just -"

"Bruce," Tony looks the other man directly in the eyes, "I'm doing the right thing here. Trust me on this."

They exchange a few more words before Bruce shakes the hand of the billionaire philanthropist and leaves the workshop, leaving Tony alone with his work, isolated, cut-off, unreachable.

 **xxx**

Well, I just saw Civil War for the third time and I'm almost broke. Worth it.

Also, I would like to know if you guys and gals would enjoy seeing a pairing or two. If not, just say so. If you would, leave a review or send a PM telling me who should go with who, and if I get enough suggestions I might just make it happen :)

R/R.


	19. This Suits Me

_A Familiar Face_

Peter walks into class. " _Science Apps. The important one,_ " he vaguely remembers Gwen saying.

Unfortunately, though, Spidey duties simply never let up and Peter is tired beyond belief. Again.

Which is why the surprise of seeing Tony Stark in the classroom was a large enough shock to jolt Peter completely awake.

"Mister Parker," the older man smiles coyly, "late again, I see. I'm hearing this is quite a common ordeal with you."

Peter completely blanks.

"Mhwhat?" was all he could muster, standing statue-like in the doorway, looking admittedly quite dumb-struck.

"Take a seat, please," Tony says with an almost comical smile. One far too big and warm to be genuine.

"Y-yeah," Peter simply nods and hustles toward his seat directly behind Gwen, avoiding Tony's gaze.

"You're late," Gwen whispers sharply so that only Peter can hear, keeping her eyes to the front. "You promised to stop being so late."

"I really should stop making promises I can't keep, huh."

"Tony Stark is standing in our classroom. _The_ Tony Stark."

"I kind of figured that much out for myself," Peter speaks slowly, keeping his tone as low as possible while Stark continues to teach from the front of the class.

Gwen's head is still locked in the direction of the board, though she whispers, "Would you happen to know _why_ he's standing in our classroom?"

Peter is taken aback.

"How should I know?"

"You're a superhero. There's no way you haven't bumped into an Avenger by now," she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

She's a smart lady.

"I mean, I _have_ had a run-in or two, but I have no idea why he's _here-_ "

"Parker," Tony's sharp voice cuts through the air.

"Y-yes?"

"Answer the equation on the board, please. If you're man enough."

"Oh," Peter nods somewhat frantically, "yeah, 'course."

Not wanting to waste another second, Tony's gaze still on him, Peter looks to the board and scans the equation.

"Friedmann equations. Derived from Einstein's theory of General Relativity. Those two equations describe the life of the entire universe," Peter mumbles mostly to himself before setting eyes on the question. "Oh, easy. The formulas contain an odd term known as the cosmological constant, which is that triangle thing with no bottom. Adding a second subscript after the "kc" and dividing by "a" with another subscript will equal "Ac" subscript two over three."

The room is silent for a moment before Tony breaks the ice.

"Commendable, although Einstein himself made the biggest flaw of his entire career while working on theories using these very equations. Care to tell me what-"

"The cosmological constant was incorporated by Einstein to counteract gravity and keep the universe eternally unchanging. When observations showed that the cosmos was actually expanding, Einstein called this insertion his biggest mistake."

Tony smiles once more. A genuine smile, and Peter returns it.

"It's evident you've been doing your homework. So get off your ass and start coming to class on time, alright?"

Class continues as per usual, only today with the added bonus of hearing Tony lightheartedly insulting some students who continued to bring up the race-car event where Tony himself almost died by "a shirtless dude with two whips."

For the first time in a while, Peter actually enjoyed the lesson. His mind didn't wander to New York's streets for a solid hour. He had no weight on his conscious for missing time prowling the city as Spidey. He felt at ease.

 **xxx**

"Peter. Stay back a minute."

Tony's words startle him somewhat, though Peter mostly expected it.

He nods to Gwen who returns the gesture before leaving the classroom, now empty side from the two superheroes.

Suddenly it hits Peter.

Could Tony honestly know of Peter's identity? It's been a little over a year since he joined the Avengers. Peter figured that his tracks had always been covered, but could Tony have possibly-

No. It's implausible. There's simply no way. This is all just a coincidence-

"So that girl... you told about your little underoo-alter-ego?"

 _Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn._

"Well," Peter answers thoughtfully, "well, yeah. She was the first to ever know."

"You trust her?"

"The concept of trust coming from you is pretty funny, considering you told the world that you're Iron-Man."

"Hah. I could handle whatever the world decided to throw at me," Tony chuckles.

"H-hold on just a second, here. How'd you know that I shared my identity with Gwen? And how do you know who I am-"

Tony taps something microscopically small residing inside his right ear. "Picks up anything within a twenty mile radius. I just dialed down the range to around ten meters and could hear everything _crystal clear,_ " Tony smirks, "and as for your second question, I figured out your little identity a year ago."

"How many other people have you told?!" Peter's voice rises.

"None. That would be pretty _rude_ , even for me."

Peter says nothing.

"...you're not gonna comment on my sweet hearing device? It's pretty sick," Tony says numbly.

"You're quite the mad scientist," Peter jokes darkly, trying to hide his fascination. Admittedly that hearing-device sounds amazing, but other matters fill his thoughts.

"Anywho, you're most certainty wondering why I decided to grace you with my presence. And, you know, why I decided to spill the beans."

"Oh, of course. My heart is pounding just by being in your vicinity," Peter mumbles absent-mindedly.

Tony ignores this remark. "I was invited by the vice-principal to spend a few days here. Freaking out the students, handing out some surprise quizzes, stuff like that. The thing that really piqued my interest was the realization that you would be here."

Peter sighs. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I've been working on a project for a few weeks now. Pain in my ass, honestly. But it's done."

Both men are silent for a while before Peter releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "It better be a Spidey suit. Then _maybe_ I might consider forgiving you for keeping tabs on me."

Tony doesn't answer.

"Tony?"

No reply.

"Mister Stark?"

Still nothing.

" _Dude? Hello?_ "

Tony's sudden outburst startles Peter completely.

" _How the hell did you know I was making a suit for you?!"_

"W-what do you-"

" _Did Banner tell you?! I swear I'm gonna make him angry_ _intentionally_ _the next time I see-_ "

"You mean you really made me a suit?"

" _It was supposed to be a surprise! I had such a beautiful plan in my mind and now it's all-"_

The two bicker for a while longer, Peter gasping for air after laughing for around five minutes straight, Tony aggravated that his ultimate surprise had been instantly guessed.

 **xxx**

The suit feels incredible. Sensational. Spectacular. Amazing. And various other synonyms for 'great.'

The style follows Peter's previous design, although now sleeker and more refined. The color scheme and webbing have also been further detailed.

Everything feels just _right_. Movement is easier and more slick, the in-built belt already has several dozen uses, and the newly-improved web shooters are a god-send.

"Electric webbing? Corrosive webbing! Chain-linked webbing?! These are-"

"Very expensive, so keep the use to a minimum," Tony's robotized voice blares overheard as he watches Peter test out the new abilities. "I'm the ass who gets to make more every time you run out."

" _Oh hoh oh_ , I'm definitely gonna run out of these _very_ quickly,"

"Have you figured out the zooming functionalities yet?"

Peter's eyes light up. " _Zooming functionalities?!_ "

 **xxx**

 _Sorry for the wait, guys and gals._

 _I've listened to your responses on the topic of pairings, and it seems your opinions are split right down the middle. I've decided not to add any relationships and focus on the story instead, as that's the most important part of a fanfic :)_

 _R/R_


	20. Humans Are Temporal Beings

_A Familiar Face_

The interior of Avengers Tower is inarguably amazing. The top floor is basically a club room, but everything below is either a workshop, science lab or military training room.

Peter stands inside one of these very training rooms, practicing with Natasha.

"Your reflexes are amazing, but your decision-making isn't up to par. C'mon, sweetie," she somewhat taunts, pushing the exhausted Peter to keep up. "We can do this."

"It's been four hours," replies the sweat-drenched Spidey.

"Maybe we can perfect the technique within the _next_ four hours, hm?" she smiles sweetly.

She's insane. Totally, indisputably insane.

The remaining hours of the evening are spent with Peter hyperventilating, attempting another few techniques, hyperventilating again, and trying several other techniques before inevitably hyperventilating. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, they wrap up their exercises and call it a night.

"You're doing exceptional work. Keep it up, hun," she nods while locking the room.

Peter simply nods wordlessly, his body on fire. Even with the body of a super-powered human, he's susceptible to intense exercise.

"Meet me here tomorrow for another session. Same time as before."

Peter feels his jaw hit the ground before nodding once more.

 **xxx**

Some time later, after drinking several dozen litres of water, Peter enters Tony's main lab and is met with the sight of an incredibly large tube accompanied by an odd helmet.

What on earth is he making this time?

"Mister Stark?"

"Oh," Tony's head pops out of the tube, "Mornin'."

"It's nine-thirty. Post Meridiem."

"What's the date?"

Peter calibrates something on his new webshooters. The exact time and date quickly appear on the sides of each device. "The eighteenth."

"Of what? November? Damn," he shrugs, returning to the tube. "Hey, could you grab that carton of delicate looking chips from the table?"

Peter takes a glance around the room. "Which table? There's like twenty in here." A few moments pass. "Better yet, there's like fifty cartons of chips on each table. How am I supposed to know which one you want, sir?"

Tony's head pops out once more. "First of all, never call me sir. It's creepy. Rubs me the wrong way. Maybe when you turn eighteen. Secondly, the carton labelled 'The Chips I Need' will suffice.

Peter takes another look around and sees the target. He hands it to the billionaire.

"I have several questions."

"Are they concerning this big machine, or are you curious about something more important like this evening's dinner selection?"

"Actually," Peter replies, "they're about the machine."

"Shoot," is Tony's nonchalant response.

"What is it?" asks Peter quizzically.

Suddenly Bruce Banner appears from behind the tube, a wrench and clipboard in each respective hand.

"It's a long, complicated story. I don't really know if Tony will have the patience or finesse to properly describe what -"

"A time machine," Tony interjects, staring at the object in question. "It's a time machine."

 _What_?

"A-a time machine?!" Peter almost yells.

"Technically, no," Bruce speaks up, walking over to both Tony and Peter. "Not a time machine."

"Then what-"

"It'll send memories into the past, once we finally build the damn thing. It's gonna take some time, though," Tony speaks thoughtfully, mainly to himself.

"You're sending _memories_ back in time? Why?"

The room is silent for a moment.

"Kid... we trust you. Which is why we're sharing this information with you," Tony continues, eyes still on the machine. "Bruce and I understand your ingenuity with science. Those make-shift webshooters had phenomenal potential, so we figured you'd be interesting in this machine, as well."

Bruce speaks up. "Nobody else knows about this. Not the government, not the Avengers, and definitely not SHIELD. This project is disclosed."

Peter simply nods, taking in the information. "So... so - so why are you trying to make this machine?"

Both older scientists look at one another before Tony diverts his attention back to Peter. "To save the world."

The laboratory falls silent once more.

Tony nods, taking the wrench and clipboard from Bruce before walking back to their creation. Bruce clears his throat.

"We've made a lot of mistakes throughout our lives. Some have been minor. Some have been catastrophic. But, now that we're the protectors of Earth, there's more dangers than ever. I want you to think of this machine as a... fail-safe," he speaks slowly, grimly.

Peter isn't sure of what he's saying.

Bruce continues. "I'm - he's a raging, hulking monster. If someone angers him, he destroy things. If someone tries to stop him from destroying things, he just destroys more things. He's-" the words get stuck in Bruce's throat. "...I'm a monster."

"Yeah, but - you've saved so many people. The whole world would have been in danger if you didn't stop those aliens. And - and Tony, you destroyed them with the missile and the wormhole-"

Tony goes rigid. Stiff. After a moment he suddenly bursts into a flurry of horrible coughs and wheezes before sitting on the cold laboratory floor, facing away from Peter.

The teenager then looks at Bruce, who's eyes are locked the floor beneath his feet, devoid of emotion.

"The world is grateful for what you've done, but... I understand. I've made mistakes too. Mistakes I wish I could fix-"

"No. We're not going to use the machine to fix mistakes that have already happened. They're apart of us, now. Our life is our life, mistakes and all. This machine's purpose is something different entirely," Tony speaks quietly, still seated on the ground.

"Then what's it's purpose?"

Bruce looks up, now staring wide-eyed at the machine.

"The Avengers could fall at any time. The entire world could be thrust into danger again in the blink of an eye. We'll keep fighting, but-"

Tony interjects solemnly, "But we won't always win. I hope we will, but sometimes considering all the options is the safest way to go about our job." He stands to his feet slowly. "If we fail, and the world dies, everything's over. This machine is being built to stop that, specifically."

"A fail-safe," Peter nods. It's a terrifying prospect, but it makes sense.

"The machine will take another several months to complete. We'll be doing it in secret, of course," Bruce walks to the contraption. "But," he turns, "It will _only_ be activated under the proper situation. To be honest, I hope we never have to use it."

"What situations?" Peter questions.

"If we lose a fight, the machine stays deactivated. If one of us is killed, the machine still stays deactivated. If all the Avengers die out, the machine will continue to remain deactivated," Bruce lets a weak smile slip through his sullen features. "But, as soon as the world falls into chaos - _only_ when no other options _at all_ are available - the machine will be activated. It will be used when, and only when, the Earth dies."

Silence befalls the room for a final time. To be completely honest, Peter feels numb. Empty.

But another question is piquing his interest.

"How will it work?"

Both scientists suddenly smile. The thick silence dissipates.

"In short, this is a device which converts memories into data and sends them through a ring singularity into the past," Tony begins, and Peter settles in for a lecture.

Bruce takes lead of the conversation. "Time for the specifics. The tube, which we're calling the LHC, has a headgear attached. With this, we can scan the nerve impulse patterns of memories accumulated in the temporal lobe - or more accurately, the CA3 of the hippocampus."

Peter struggles somewhat while following, but he's quickly understanding the general idea. Nothing too complicated. Yet.

"Then, using the LHC, we can encode the nerve signal impulse data into electrical signal data. Your memories are around 1.24 terabytes of data."

Honestly, that doesn't seem like much. It's our entire memories, after all.

Bruce keeps his lecturing rolling. "We send the electrical signal data through the LHC once more. This creates an abhorrent discharge."

"It creates a _mini black hole,"_ Tony interrupts suddenly.

Peter's eyes shoot wide open. He gulps.

"Technically, they're Kerr Black Holes. And they only appear for one-millionth of a nano-second before disappearing. However, we use the gravity of this black hole to compress the data into only 36 bytes in total. Then... it goes through the ring singularity."

Peter is amazed.

"When it goes through the ring singularity and reaches the headgear in the past, the data should automatically decompress in 23 milliseconds. At the same time it decompresses, the decoding program runs, returning the electrical signal back into nerve impulse signals."

Tony has returned to working on the machine, though Bruce is almost finished with the lecture.

"When they arrive at the receiving headgear, the nerve impulse signals are faintly discharged from the sending mouthpiece at around 0.02 amperes. Then, the receiving headgear touches the recipient's ear and emits signals near their temple."

"...and?"

Bruce chuckles. "Eager, are we?. I love conversing with fellow scientists. Well, the data of your future memories is emitted from the ear-piece and back into your hippocampus. The memory overwrite is complete."

"Wait, wait... so what happens to the nerve impulses?"

Bruce looks somewhat shocked. Peter doesn't think he expected a teenager to follow along so easily.

"Well, this is where things get tricky. The frontal lobe sends top-down memory recollection signals to the temporal lobe. These signals are sent when you recall memories. By emitting nerve impulse signals that stimulate the frontal lobe, these top down-down memory recollection signals are intentionally sent out. By these actions, the recipient is forced to 'remember' all of the memories sent by the sender. They'll remember memories from the future, and the necessary time is less than a second. As a result, the recipient now holds all the same memories as the sender, and the time leap is complete."

 _Time leap_.

This is... admittedly, kinda scary.

Peter wasn't completely against the idea of creating a time machine before, but now he's more apprehensive.

Is this wrong?

Bruce can see something is wrong. "I understand your fears. Tony and I have been feeling the same way, which is why necessary precautions have been taken. Remember... we _only_ use this when there's no other alternative. When every ounce of hope is gone from the world."

Peter nods. He releases a sigh. He's tired.

Tony finally speaks up. "We're mad scientists. If this is what it takes to save the world, you'll be damn sure we follow through."

 **xxx**

The journey home feels like an eternity. Peter is trapped within his own mind.

Everything is a blur.

 _Time leaps_ _._

 _Frontal lobe memories._

 _Kerr Black Holes._

 _...Time travel._

And finally, the wise words of Bruce Banner.

 _"-when there's no other alternative. When every ounce of hope is gone from the world."_

* * *

 _A/N:_ Yes, this Time Leap Machine will become central to the plot, but not for a while. For now, the story will continue as usual. In the future, however, things will change. Stay tuned :)


	21. Parallel World Paranoia

_A Familiar Face_

Days pass. Weeks, even.

Though however hard he may try, Peter's mind wanders back to the Time Leap Machine.

The concept is incredible, and if Bruce and Tony can successfully bring their plans into fruition, it'll be a world-changing event.

Literally.

He hasn't returned to the lab since first visiting. That place gives Peter the creeps, to be honest.

And his conflicted thoughts are unrelenting.

 _What if the time leap fails?_

 _Could the world be thrown out of balance?_

 _Are there really parallel universes?_

Bruce obviously knows much more on this topic than Peter. Maybe he _should_ pay the visit a lab.

To keep his mind off the looming subject at hand, Peter decides to test his new Spidey suit even further.

And although it may feel amazing, it certainty doesn't provide all that much new help when in battle.

Peter is learning this the hard way.

"You looked a lil' _shocked_ , kid."

Herman Schultz. Some dude in his mid-twenties. Runs around in a cushioned yellow suit while shooting concentrated blasts of compressed air that vibrate at an intense frequency.

Basically, this dude is a nutcase, which is quite funny considering that _S_ _pider-Man_ is usually labelled the weirdo.

"Jus - _augh_ \- just gimme a sec," Peter breathes queasily through his strained mask, gasping for air.

The two are deep underground inside New York's snake-like tunnel system.

This entire event began when Peter intervened a bank robbery committed by Schultz and his goonies. They fled underground with a large sum of money, Peter right on their tales before landing himself directly in the middle of an ambush.

Dozens upon dozens of armored mercenaries came in seemingly unending waves, and just as Peter thought he had the upper-hand - everything went to crap.

The Shocker is being a real pain in the rear today.

"What's wrong, buddy? You have a -"

"A _shocked_ expression on my face? Is that what you were gonna say, dude?" Peter remarks slowly, attempting to stand on his feet, ignoring the blood trickling down his left arm.

Schultz looks confused.

"Well - yeah, but-" his brow lowers, "You should stop making fun of me before I shoot another shockwave at your sorry ass."

"I'm just - _nhh_ \- getting really peeved these days. You criminals can never come up with anything original," Peter speaks, trying desperately to buy time as a plan is formed. "It's always the same insults. I just need a little _variety_ from time to time, y'know?"

Shocker snickers. "How's _this_ for variety."

Suddenly a dial is turned on his shocking-gloves and Peter's spidey-sense booms painfully. He leaps unceremoniously across the room, only seconds before another shock-blast erupts from Schultz. This one is around three times bigger than the previous attacks.

"And here I was thinking today would be one of those nice days," Peter mumbles numbly as he sticks to a wall.

"It's high time you started to take me seriously, boy," Herman's southern voice rings out. "Made me of laughing stock the Enforcers, and now you _still_ think I'm just another push-over. I-"

"Shhh, dude. Give us teenagers our alone time," Peter quips, shooting a flurry of webs directly into Shocker's face while jumping from wall to wall.

This turns things from bad to worse.

Herman completely loses his already unhinged cool and goes ballistic, letting off shock-wave after shock-wave without a nick of precision.

Subway trains are obliterated, enveloping the entire underground area with fire and chaotic debris. Peter looks toward the ground and sees the unconscious bad guys, realizing they'll also die unless he gets them back to the surface.

"Herman, listen to me! Your friends are gonna die unless we-"

An infuriated screech cuts Peter off. Herman continues to blast the subway interior, and pillars quickly begin to fall in shambles.

This isn't good.

Peter leaps toward Shocker, planting a kick directly into his thick noggin.

"Please be knocked out, please be knocked out, please be knocked the heck out..."

The plan doesn't go as smoothly as that.

Herman stumbles, rips the webbing from his eyes and lays sight on Peter.

"YOU FREAK-"

Another shock-wave. Peter narrowly dodges.

"HEY! _DUDE_! Look at the subway! You're gonna knock the whole underground down! Stop it, dude!"

"D-don't make my decisions! I HATE YOU!"

This is going nowhere fast.

Peter plants another strikingly powerful fist into Herman's face and webs him directly to the floor.

"Now - now stay there and be a good little Shocker while I clean up your mess."

Peter turns and scans the entire vicinity, using his zooming and scanning functionalities in-built to his Spider-Visors.

 _Sixteen baddies, including Schultz._

Peter guesses he can only carry four bodies at a time. This won't work.

Tony's voice suddenly blares into Peter's ears, the serious tone evident even through the static.

"I'm only a few thousand meters away. What's the situation?"

"Uh, yeah - I think the subway might collapse."

"Any people down there?"

Peter nods, only to realize Tony isn't able to see him.

"A whole gang of bank robbers. I can't carry them all out before the tunnel collapses in on itself."

Tony reminds silent for a moment.

"Alright," he finally exclaims. "I'm sending some suits down there as well. Pick up as many bodies as you can and get the hell out. Leave the rest to me."

Peter does as instructed, lifting four unconscious robbers onto his back, including Shocker. He then leaps over a destroyed, flaming train which extends for around one hundred meters.

Peter also feels the walls around him shake and stir.

"You better hurry, sir. The tunnel's gonna fall harder than the Chitauri in a sec," Peter exclaims exasperatedly. "Hold on a minute... did you say s _uits_?

Upon hearing this, Tony's faint laugh echoes in Peter's earpiece. "You're in for a treat, kiddo."

Peter continues to weave through the intricate tunneling systems, taking sharp turns before arriving back in the bank.

A plethora of S.W.A.T officers and policemen have closed the entire building, and they train their rifles on Spidey as soon as he's noticed.

"HANDS IN THE AIR! WE WILL SHOOT-"

"Guys, there's really no time for our daily scuffles. The tunnels are gonna collapse. You needa get back!"

"I SAID HANDS IN THE-"

The S.W.A.T commissioner doesn't have a chance to finish.

Several entirely new Iron Man suits crash into the bank through the surrounding windows. They lay eyes on Peter, then on the sizable hole leading to the remaining bad guys.

Suddenly they release several dozen flashbangs and blind every policeman in the vicinity before rocketing into the wall opening.

Peter knows this is his chance to escape.

Rifles are fired randomly in his direction, though blinded cops are no threat as Peter drops the unconscious robbers in a safe corner before leaping out the building through an already destroyed window.

He feels fresh New York air ripple against the suit.

His heart is pounding.

Peter then fires a web and thrusts himself toward a nearby wall overlooking the entire premises. The tunnel is finally giving in.

A pulsing explosion. The ground caves and drops. People scream, though thankfully nobody is near the crater which lies directly in the middle of the street.

He can't tell if Tony's suits saved the day, but Peter continues to scan the area for any clue.

This isn't looking good.

More explosion erupt and fire cascades from the air. Onlookers scurry as far away as possible.

Still no sign of life from the tunnels.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he sees two suits emerge from the bank with Herman's goons in tow.

But that isn't right. There should be _four_ suits.

Alright. No more waiting around. There's lives at stake.

Peter detaches himself from the wall and swings directly into the destructive crater itself. People scream, cheer, chant and cry. Everything is in chaos.

His feet hit the ground. There's abhorrent chunks of metal strewn throughout the cave.

Peter scans his surroundings and lays eyes on a terrifying sight.

One of Tony's suits has been completely crushed by a massive hunk of debris. Next to that, the only remaining suit is supporting the collapsed roof, protecting the final group of bank robbers which lay at his feet.

That roof would weigh _tons_. The robot won't hold on for much longer.

Peter shoots a web at each unconscious bad guy and pulls. They fly in his direction, and he grabs each one by their appendages before taking one final leap out the crater.

Upon seeing this, the final suit nods and ceases his support on the roof. It crushes the robot instantly, surrounding the entire street in dust.

 **xxx**

Every one of Schultz's thugs were saved. Peter should be happy, but instead he feels empty.

His actions caused abhorrent destruction to the city street. He was careless. Reckless. Stupid.

Night has fallen. The Avengers commended him on his excellent quick thinking, telling Peter that Shocker is the one to blame.

Peter nods, but hardly listens.

An hour or so passes before several Avengers return home, leaving Peter, Tony and Bruce alone.

Tony is the first to speak. "Well, if we're done here, I'll be in workshop." He stands and walks to the door before turning and adding, "You did good, kid. Swing back home whenever you're ready."

Peter almost nods absentmindedly again before his head shoots up. "Wait. You're gonna continue working on the Time Leap Machine?"

Tony nods with a smirk. "Interested?"

Peter returns the nod.

"Get changed into some regular clothes and meet me down there."

With these words he leaves. Bruce also stands, patting Peter on the back before following suit.

Entering the lab around five minutes later, now in his casual attire, Peter notices a drastic change to the machine.

It appears to be more refined, with metal insulation and an improved headset.

He realizes that Tony and Bruce have probably been working on the device daily since the last visit, which was four weeks ago.

"We've made significant progress, if I do say so myself," Bruce pronounces proudly, a beam on his face.

"But also uncovered significant limitations," Tony adds in monotone.

"Like what?" Peter questions, walking to the machine.

"The LHC is being a pain in the ass," Tony mumbles. "There's two rings inside the tube. Inside the rings is a super low temperature vacuum. Proton acceleration occurs when we activate the tube, which mean the rings gradually accelerate by our proton synchrotron booster. Finally, the rings undergo their final acceleration via the superconducting magnets spread throughout. At the end, they reach up to 99.9999991% of the speed of light."

"The LHC's dangerous, is what we're saying," Bruce smirks with another light chuckle.

"The - the _speed of light?_ Why the heck are you trying to reach the speed of light?" Peter basically yells.

"Well, LHC stands for _Large Hadron Collider_. You ever heard of those in school?" Tony quizzes.

"They're popped up in a textbook or two, but other than that... no, nothing."

Tony smiles. "Hadron is the name of the particle we're trying to produce. Without compressing hadrons, the Kerr Black Holes won't produce."

"So..."

"So activating the Time Leap Machine requires the speed of light. Dandy stuff. Child's play," Bruce mumbles quietly.

Peter's voice lowers back to it's normal tone as he speaks, "Do you think you can generate the speed of light?"

"No. But I don't think we need to. Maybe producing several miniature Kerr Black Holes is simpler than a somewhat larger one. We... need to do more research before going forth."

"...Have you tried _white holes?_ "

Both older scientists look at Peter quizzically. Tony says, "They're only theoretical. We've considered the possibility, but who the hell knows if they even exist."

White holes are basically the antithesis of black holes. Instead of sucking everything in, they push everything out.

"Well... yeah, I got nothing," Peter smirks.

"This is the only problem in our path. The machine is around seventy percent complete," Bruce speaks solemnly, mostly to himself. "The answers on the tip of my tongue, I swear."

"Don't get all angry and piss yourself," Tony turns back to the Time Leap device with a chuckle.

Bruce simply ignores this.

"So, I have another question," Peter says to Bruce.

"Ask away."

"When you activate the machine, how long would it take to send the memories into the past?"

"Ahh," Bruce's face lightens. "The longest process will be churning your 1.24 terabyte memory file into 36 bytes. Tony actually provided a solid solution."

"Who would've thought a genius like me could do something so brilliant," the billionaire's voice echoes. "I've set up 64 direct lines with SHIELD's central database. By sending all 1.24 terabytes of data into each line, the waiting time would be around twenty seconds."

That's unexpectedly fast.

But something else in that sentence catches Peter's ears.

"SHIELD?! Won't they know we've built a machine if we're connected to their database?"

"Nope. I'm secured inside that puppy already. Untraceable, baby."

"And what about when we _use_ the time machine?"

Tony pauses for a moment. "Well, for one, I'm hoping it remains _unused_. And two... even if we use it, the past would've changed. The user would've sent their memories back in time. It would've never been used on that new timeline."

Oh. Right.

It _is_ a time machine after all.

Peter's head is spinning somewhat.

"Hey, Peter." It's Bruce. He sounds concerned. "Don't worry if you don't understand everything that's going on. We're still planning. It's just theoretical right now. Honestly, our calculations could be completely off. But if everything goes to plan, we'll have built a fail-safe. No need to worry your head off."

"Go home. Get some rest. You had a big day, after all - destroying my suits, and such," Tony jabs with a smirk.

 **xxx**

Some hours pass. Peter's in bed, back at Aunt May's home. He's restless.

Tony and Bruce _hacked_ into SHIELD's central database. Are they careless, or could they really be untraceable?

There's so many things going on. Far too many things for a normal teenager.

Wait. That's right.

Peter Parker isn't a normal teenager.

Not by a long shot.

He's Spider-Man. An Avenger. A protector of the world.


	22. Turning Point

_A Familiar Face_

"You ever wonder if there's anything up there?"

"Hm? Oh, well... yeah. Sometimes."

"And _do_ you think there's any life up there?"

Peter remains silent for a moment. "Yeah," he nods, "definitely."

"Exactly," Clint agrees, his head facing upwards. "If there's an entire planet filled with humans and animals right here, then there's bound to be something elsewhere."

Sunday nights usually end up like this. Peter and Clint sitting atop Avengers tower, talking about nothing in particular, their minds free and flowing, and although both men wear their suits the atmosphere feels as natural as two long-time friends having a normal meetup.

Peter relishes these evenings.

Clint was Peter's first comforting presence in SHIELD, after all. His first ally, and eventual friend.

"How've you been this week? Haven't exactly had a good chance to speak," the archer stretches his muscles while leaning back on an air duct.

"Busy, actually. This burner phone never lets up," Peter chuckles, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Winter will soon set upon the city, the piercing chill of New York's icy winds already feeling like daggers on Peter's shivering skin.

"I'm surprised they're still making you use that thing. To be completely honest, you should be a head-runner for SHIELD's STRIKE division by now."

"STRIKE?" Peter's mumbles, his mind blank. "Not sure I follow."

Clint stifles a small yawn but nods once more. "An off-the-books division which carters almost exclusively to national espionage. Steve spends most of his spare time doing something with 'em. I should've realised Fury wouldn't have mentioned it. It's pretty serious stuff."

Peter smiles. "Captain America goes on secret espionage missions? That sounds like something ripped straight from a comic book."

"Hah. Look who's talking," Clint brandishes a wide smile. "Our whole life is a comic book."

"So what does he do? In STRIKE, I mean."

"If Fury didn't tell you, I sure as hell shouldn't. Their business is _way_ beyond my paycheck."

Peter expected this answer. It really isn't his business to pry, after all.

"Hey, Spidey... I have something to ask."

However, it appears as though Clint is in a prying mood himself.

"What is it?" Peter asks, turning to face his fellow teammate.

Silence overcomes them for a moment or two, Hawkeye visibly choosing the words to pronounce.

"...how old are you?"

Somehow, Peter expected this too.

It's been months - _months_ \- since he entered the world of the Avengers, and yet only Tony and Bruce know his true identity, albeit by using shady methods.

Neither Clint, Natasha or even Steve know who hides behind the mask. Not yet, at least.

And Peter hopes to keep things that way for a while longer.

But... how damaging could revealing something as your date of birth _truly_ be?

Clint is undeniably an honest man, and Peter trusts the Avenger with his own life. But... the repercussions could -

"It's perfectly fine if you don't want to tell me-"

"Seventeen."

"Hm?" Clint's head somewhat jerks upward.

"I'm seventeen."

They stand silent for the second time in one night.

"No. No way," Clint chuckles, shaking his head slowly. "Get outta town."

"It's true. I... was born seventeen years ago," Peter speaks with little emotion, now focusing his sight on the pitch-black, starless sky. "So yeah. Seventeen. How old are _you_ , by the way?"

Clint's faint chuckles have slowly dissipated.

"You're serious?"

"I am," Peter nods.

"Seventeen?"

"Uh huh."

"As in - as in you're... still a teenager?" the archer struggles to piece his words together.

"Abso-diddly-utely."

Clint's eyes grow wide.

" _You fight like some kind of possessed black-belt tae kwon do master with super-powers!_ How in the hell did you learn to fight like that in just - how - how did you learn to _swing around and - jump - and, and -"_

Peter is struggling to keep his laughter in check. Clint's face is simply far too priceless.

"Have I mentioned that I have the abilities of a super-powered _spider_ before?" Peter speaks between cackles, still thoroughly amused by Hawkeye's bemusement.

"You..." the archer shakes his head again, a flurry of emotions evident on his face - mostly of the befuddled sort. "You're an enigma."

"Don't be too jealous of my awesome skills. You still have your arrows."

"Arrows aren't much compared to enhanced reflexes and senses."

"That - is true," Peter is somewhat taken aback by Clint's knowledge on the powers he possesses. "How'd you know about my senses?

Clint shrugs nonchalantly. "It's pretty obvious with the way you anticipate every move an enemy makes. Or maybe you're not even anticipating the attacks... but dodging them using enhanced reflexes."

"You've been studying me..." Peter releases a faint chuckle, lowering his head. It seems most people have these days.

"When I had to deliver the message during our fake training session at the port, you avoided my speeding arrow at almost point-blank range. It was incredible," Clint remarks, smirking. "In that instant I knew you weren't completely human. Ah - I mean - you know - meaning no disrespect," he fumbles his speech. "I meant in the way that Bruce isn't completely human, or Steve. You each have astonishing gifts to utilise. It's like some kind of miracle."

That was one way of looking at it.

But, to be honest, Clint is simply taking the big picture and making it wallet-sized. Our " _astonishing gifts"_ have brought so many damn hardships.

They aren't _astonishing_ gifts. They aren't really gifts at all.

A rock was thrown into a pond and a water droplet happened to land on Peter. And Bruce. And Steve.

These abilities weren't fate, nor a gift from God.

They were simply coincidence.

"Y-yeah," Peter decides not to dwell on the subject.

He may not have asked for the powers he received, but he was going to use every last ounce of his abilities to protect those around him.

Just like Uncle Ben would have wanted, Peter hopes.

 **xxx**

Clint takes a glance at his watch an hour or so later.

"Shoot," he mumbles. "We might as well head back."

"You're tired already? Old age must be catching up," Peter quips, standing to his aching feet.

"Shut up. I'm not the one with school in the morning," Clint says blandly, though Peter can almost certainty see the smirk on the archer's face as they walk towards the door.

Entering Tony's pristine " _Avenger's Homeroom_ " where the group usually spend their free time, both super-heroes notice that they're alone.

"Guess everyone went home for the night. I'll close shop. You should go-"

They're interrupted by the sound of an elevator arriving at the current floor. Peter and Clint shoot glances at one another.

Suddenly the sleekly designed doors slide open, a young, attractive woman storming out into the Homeroom.

Peter notices she looks anxious, or upset, or perhaps even furious.

"Where're the others?" she questions Clint seriously.

"Not here. Went home, I could guess. Maria, is everything-"

"They killed Nick."

Peter's rhythmic heart-beats are suddenly much louder.

Who's Nick? And - _who killed him_?

Clint looks just as shocked.

 _What's going on?_

"W-wha-" Clint stammers.

"Five hours ago, Director Fury was attacked mercilessly by unknown assailants _in the streets_. They - they injured him so bad..."

Maria falls haphazardly onto a sofa, her head in her hands.

"What happened next?" Clint says in an authoritative, calm, controlling voice, taking a seat beside her.

Peter feels awkward standing around, listening intently to the news of Director Fury's... death.

Hold on a moment.

Nick Fury.

 _The_ Nick Fury.

Of SHIELD.

...is dead?

That can't be. Nobody can just _kill_ the head of a massive world-wide organisation like SHIELD in broad daylight, and in the streets of New York itself, no less.

What on Earth is happening?

"He - he esc - escaped," Maria breathes heavily, evidently in an exorbitant amount of shock. "Somehow he... made it to Steve's apartment. And then he - he waited for Steve to get - get home."

She's shaking.

Clint is facing her, attempting to maintain his calm attitude.

Peter sees through it.

"What followed that?" the archer's voice shakes.

She nods to herself, eyes wet and bloodshot. "I - I don't know the exacts. The Captain got home and... Director Fury was suddenly shot with armor-piercing rounds. The killer wasn't-" she falters. "-wasn't caught."

" _Damnit_ ," Clint curses under his breath, now looking furious. "Damnit!"

"S-shouldn't we tell the others-"

Maria cuts Peter off completely. "I've sent the messages but assumed everyone would be here anyway. I just hope they've been properly notified."

Clint returns to his feet and begins pacing, an aura of anger evident simply from taking a short glance at him.

Anxious quiet befalls the room for around ten minutes.

Clint doesn't cease his pacing.

Maria is staring blankly at the floor, shuddering every now and again. She must be feeling Director Fury's loss the hardest.

Peter simply waits for something to happen.

Honestly, this entire event doesn't feel real. Nick Fury can't be dead. It's too sudden, too unexpected, too left-field.

Then again, this entire month has been sudden, unexpected and left-field. First the Time Leap Machine, and now the head of SHIELD's death.

 _What on Earth is going on?!_

Another ten minutes pass before a commotion is heard out on the Tower balcony.

Suddenly Tony enters the premise in his Iron-Man attire, landing with a thud only moments before his armour is stripped away completely by the building's automated sensory AI.

"I heard. Did they _really_ get rid or him or is this just some bullshit hoax?" Tony mutters angrily, pouring himself a glass of vodka. He then stares hard at the beverage, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, before uttering another swear and knocking the glass off the bar.

It smashes against the marble floor, glass scattering in every which direction. A few robots appear from around the corner to remove the hazards. Tony is now looking more pale than Peter has ever seen.

The billionaire curses again before speaking, "Where's Cap?"

"At SHIELD. He's meeting with the newly-appointed..." Maria pauses. "The - the newly-appointed... _Director_."

"Jesus Christ - they chose a new one already?" Tony says exasperatedly. "Who the hell is it?"

Maria focuses her sight on Tony, a cold expression plastered over her features. "Alexander Pierce."

Clint abruptly stops pacing. "Weren't he and Fury old-time buds?"

"Mmhm," Maria nods, "and he was the most competent successor for the spot. I guess Pierce has always been the back-up."

Tony releases an overdrawn sigh, looking exceptionally agitated; his normally cool demeanour is all but gone. "Is he trustworthy?"

"Don't know," Maria shrugs.

Tony grabs the bottle of vodka beside him and begins drinking directly from the source, ignoring the stray droplets coursing down his throat. Eventually he discontinues the unpleasant skulking of the alcohol and mutters, "Let's hope he minds his own business as much as Fury did."

"You worried he's gonna be nosy?" Clint asks, his arms folded.

Peter can tell Tony is inferring much more than simple nosiness, but the billionaire quietly nods toward the archer and continues drinking.

"I think - I think I want to go home," Maria speaks after another bout of silence.

"Yeah... I should take my leave, too," Clint speaks quietly.

He begins walking over to Peter, a sullen expression over his features before suddenly placing a firm hand on the teenager's shoulders, now bearing a somewhat forced smile. "Stay safe, Spider-Man."

He then turns, nods to Tony, and follows Maria to the elevator.

The moment they leave, Peter turns to the philanthropist.

"You're worried about the Time Leap Machine, right?"

Tony nods, glancing into Peter's lenses. "I have faith in the lines I connected to SHIELD. They can't be traced, and even if they _were_ to be found I've set up countermeasures. I'm just-"

"You're getting closer to finally creating a time machine, and suddenly this whole event drops right onto your head. I get it. It's a lot to handle at once."

Tony lets a smile flake through his otherwise strained face. "I'm overworked."

"How's it coming along, by the way?" Peter asks, curiosity piquing.

"We're basically a week or two away from getting it operational at this point," Tony walks past Peter, vodka bottle still firmly in grasp, and drops down onto his sofa. "Of course some unforeseen obstructions could get in the way, but... at the pace Bruce and I are going, we're infallibly kicking ass."

Peter feels this is a ray of light in the darkness.

At the very least, the Time Leap Machine will continue it's scheduled development.

 **xxx**

In the few days following this eventful Sunday evening, Peter hears little from his fellow Avengers.

He guesses they're probably caught up in all of the SHIELD hubbub, so little contact is somewhat expected.

A new Director is being appointed, after all, though it'll still be a while before Alexander Pierce officially takes the position.

Peter technically _is_ an Avenger, though he figures a teenager like himself should simply stay far away from matters as serious as this.

And so, here he sits - inside an internet cafe, Gwen on the seat opposite to himself, both deeply engaged in their respective laptops, eyes skittering across the keyboard, then the various textbooks strewn about their table, then back to the keyboard.

Gwen speaks up suddenly, breaking the thick, concentrated silence. "What'd you put for a Decapoda's appendage structure?"

Peter shoots strikingly fast glances across his page, finding the answer written deep in his report. "-all decapods have ten legs, in the form of five pairs of thoracic appendages on the last five thoracic segments. The front three pairs function as mouthparts and are generally referred to as maxillipeds; the remainder are pereiopods."

Gwen looks up from her screen, scowling. "You didn't mention their uropods?"

"Ah - crap," Peter shakes his head, returning focus on the textbook laid beside him.

"You'd better hurry up and write the conclusion on the Dendrobranchiata larvae, too."

Peter sighs. "I... really don't want to..."

"Well..." Gwen glances at her watch. "Oh no! Damnit-"

"Curfew?" Peter mumbles knowingly.

"Curfew," Gwen concedes agitatedly, hurriedly packing her items.

Peter adopts a particularly fake sad-face accompanied by an exaggerated frown. "You always leave when I need your help."

Gwen smiles innocently. "I guess we're even, then."

The jab catches Peter off-guard, though Gwen begins to laugh until her ribs hurt, relishing in Peter's sudden and drastic change of expressions.

They bade each other goodbye, and Peter continues with his _Science App._ essay. The important subject.

Thirty minutes pass before Peter stretches his stiff body, the homework finally completed and sent off for marking.

Packing away his textbooks and cheap laptop, Peter awkwardly waves goodbye to the on-duty barrister and leaves the building, slamming into a wall of New York's finest ice-cold air.

He walks a block or two before thinking that a coffee sounded exceptionally lovely at that particular moment.

He then realises that he left a cafe just minutes prior, and silently curses himself.

Stopping in his tracks, Peter Parker turns and walks directly down the path he just took.

He also realises he'll need to talk to the barrister again. The same barrister whom he awkwardly waved off in order to purchase said coffee.

Peter lets another silent curse escape his lips, the warmth from his breath almost instantaneously dissipating into the piercing winds. Damn teenage awkwardness.

Suddenly Peter's phone vibrates.

A text?

It could only be from a certain number of people.

Aunt May isn't tech-savvy enough to send a proper text and instead prefers to call, leaving her out the picture.

Gwen would be the easiest assumption, though they spoke only half and hour ago. What could be on her mind?

He grasps his pocketed cellphone, fingertips cold and numb from the blistering weather.

Squinting slightly to make out the text's sender, Peter notices something strange.

 ** _From: ehj350 h3_**

Peter harshly inhales a breath of freezing, icy air. His heart suddenly hammers away mercilessly at his chest, pulsating and pounding.

The text message reads: **_-You know too much-_**

What is this? A joke?

Peter's throat is dry. He feels dizzy.

This isn't right. This has to be some sort of stupid prank.

There's no way...

But then he lays eyes on the words reading: **_Picture Attached._**

He gulps -

\- and presses the button to open the image.

A horribly blurry picture of red gelatin on a dirtied, chipped plate fills the screen. The background is pitch-black.

That's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

A cube of red gelatin on a horribly worn plate.

Peter's insides churn.

 _What on Earth is happening?_


	23. Confusion & Elocution

_A Familiar Face_

 _This is just a joke, right?_

A blast of arctic air speared through Peter's coat and prickled along his skin; sinking down to his very bones.

It was piercing. His hands and feet were benumbed with cold, his nose running and ears as cold as ice. He was chilled to the marrow. His legs became stiff and insensate. Not a bird chirped. They lay huddled together in their nests, silent.

 _Okay, okay, okay-_

Mind racing.

Not good.

 _It's a prank,_ Peter thinks erratically. _Just ignore it, Petey. Screw it. You've fought bad-ass dudes with shock gloves and bird suits. Just ignore thi-_

The phone beeps again.

 _Crap._

He hardly hesitates, his interest and concern already piqued. The screen is held before his face only half a second later.

 **From:** ** _ehj350 h3_**

Although this time, he sees no message.

Peter is momentarily confused, staring at the empty text box, eyebrows raised almost comically, almost certainty looking quite odd even by New York pedestrian standards.

It takes him a moment or two to notice another attachment in the upper left corner. Clicking it, a video streaming app is instantly opened.

Peter waits anxiously as it buffers.

Suddenly-

Static. The video is static. Incoherent, uncorrelated static. It runs for exactly sixty-four seconds. A solid minute and four seconds of the white noise seen on television channels with no transmission signals. Erratic. Empty.

He closes the app, shuts off his phone and immediately sprints into an alley.

 _No time to change,_ he grumbles subconsciously, shooting a web.

Five minutes pass before the quaint little borough of Queens rolls into view. It was foggy, misty. Hardly visible.

Soon Peter finds himself gliding over Aunt May's house. The grass was covered with frost, it's numbing chill killing all the flowers and vegetation. The trees stood naked. The temperature touched the freezing point.

"Aunt May!"

He practically knocks the door off it's hinges.

"What?! What are you yelling about!?"

Relief swells, flooding his body upon hearing his aunt's concerned, surprised voice.

She's safe. Nothing bad happened.

Nothing bad.

Not yet.

"N-no... nothing, Aunt May. Sorry."

She had ran halfway down the stairs in a hurried bobble, her annoying expression and frayed hair visible from the front entrance as she peered quizzically at Peter.

"Well...f-fine. Come in normally next time, please. I'm pretty sure you knocked a screw loose in the door."

He looks to his right. The front door is slanted.

"W-woops. I-I can fix that."

"See that you do," she nods, still looking unsure, her strange nephew causing more confusion with each passing day. "Anyway, what'd you like for dinner? I can cook up some spaghetti and meatballs, or maybe some of my famous meat loaf-"

"N-no, that's okay! I'll be out tonight-"

"Where."

It wasn't a question. It was an order.

"Gonna hand in those application papers."

Her face relaxes at this. She looks instantly chirpier.

"All of them?"

Peter nods.

"Ooh, let me drive you. It'll take hours to walk from the station to the Postal Office to the Bugle to the-"

"Nah, nah, it's fine. I need the exercise," he flashes a smile.

"Make sure to brush your teeth before you go, then. You look terrible."

She turns, making her way up the stairs. Peter remains in the doorway, not doing anything in particular besides staring absentmindedly at where she once stood.

"I loooovveeee yooouuuuu-"

"JUST GO, PETER."

 **xxx**

In truth, he hadn't even been remotely considering handing in the applications any time soon. Needing an excuse for Aunt May, though, had led him to make up the story in a haste.

So here Peter stands, holding the chilled balance pole inside a subway train, dressed in his cheaply purchased Kmart attire, trying his utmost best to stay relatively warm in the freezing night.

He vaguely remembers one previous Metro ride, in which he knocked an entire platoon of older thugs on their respective tuchuses only an hour after gaining his powers.

He cracks a toothy grin.

To be fair, his mind was still filled with thoughts of the earlier text messages.

Although he knew they could be fake, why take the chance? It would be best to tell Steve.

Personal threats aren't something that should be idiotically overlooked.

So Peter decides it wouldn't hurt to pay a visit to Avengers Tower after handing in the forms. It'd be late in the night, though he had a feeling the team wouldn't mind.

The overhead _Next Destination_ sign for the Metro blinked, now reading _Port Authority Metro._

Right where he needed to be.

A few minutes pass before the train comes to a halt. Detaching his worn skateboard from the equally worn backpack, Peter glides out the sliding doors with ease.

 **xxx**

He always loved New York in the winter. The world could have very easily been mistaken for a movie; the blackness of night in sharp, unreal contrast to the lightly falling snow lying gently on the ground.

Another small grin etched upon his features.

"Alright, alright, alright," he mumbles quietly, still moving swiftly with grace across the pavement, "Better stop by the post office first."

He does, handing in a resume accompanied with multitudinous referrals and academic awards from previous years. The referrals were mostly written by teachers at Midtown High who look favourably at Peter and his work, and Doctor Connors had also written a gratuitous note only last year, though it remains unused. He's now known as a criminal, after all. Peter can't use it. The kind gesture is wasted.

The rather attractive receptionist smiles, taking the forms. Peter nods awkwardly, flashing a dorky smile which he thought looked 'cool' or 'cute' before turning to exit the building. In truth, he looked like an oddball.

The naked winter trees line the avenue. Everyone's breath rises in visible puffs to join the darkened clouded night sky. There is a freezing chill in the air that brings crispness to the leaves, bejewelled with frost, that crunch underfoot.

"Next is the Bugle."

The outside looks grand, but intimidating. Peter Parker has no idea what to expect behind those doors.

He heaves a sigh and enters.

He tells the receptionist of his intentions and she gestures toward an elevator, saying to go to the eighth floor.

When he arrives and the doors open, Peter witnesses a floor full of chaos.

Papers are flying from all angles and many employees look overworked and tired.

Before having a chance to comment on the crazy situation he spots a young, organised secretary positioned to the far side of the room. He makes his way to her, avoiding the other workers.

"Hi," she brandishes a smile. White teeth across the board. Perfectly straight. Woah. "Ignore the mess. What can I do for you?"

"Y-yeah, I just - paper. Papers."

He's stuttering. She's very pretty.

"...Papers?" she smirks, turning her head to one side, feigning a confused expression.

"N-yeah. Uh, application forms. I, y'know, have my resume and I just brought it here. Because I was hoping you'd consider me for a job," he finally blurts, possibly blushing from either his embarrassment or idiocy. Or both. Probably both. "A job here."

"Let me see those papers, then," she replies, visibly holding a laugh.

Peter exhales, handing over his folder.

She takes a moment to read over each document. "So," she finally speaks, placing everything on her pristine desk, "You're here for the Web Design position?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Oh, excuse my manners. Betty Brant. Secretary," she extends a hand to shake. He takes it. "Anyway, it says here that you take photography and IT courses at school. You're seventeen, so I'm assuming you're in..."

"Senior year. I finish up in a few months."

She nods, looking down at the documents every few seconds. "With some experience like that, you'd actually be a fairly decent pick for the job. Bring any photos with you? Some examples of websites you've designed so we can get a feel of your quality and skill?"

This catches Peter off guard. He hadn't been planning on handing up the applications so soon, but Aunt May changed things. He completely forgot to bring examples of his work. Crap.

"I-uh..."

Wait. The Spidey photographs he took earlier in the week are still in his backpack. It's not much, but it's better than absolutely nothing.

He swiftly reaches into the bag positioned by his feet, grabbing a handful of randomly selected images. She looks over each and every frame for what feels like hours.

There are photos of Spider-Man swinging gracefully in the distance, photos of beautifully positioned webs against a wondrous New York night-life backdrop, an image of Spidey crawling across a neon sign in Times Square as snow cascades from above.

Each photo is purposefully taken in a way which ensures nobody would suspect Peter to be inside the suit, or even in cahoots with Spidey himself. They're always shot from the ground or balconies, places anyone else can reach. So normal. So unassuming.

"These are..."

"Not much, I know. Sorry. Didn't exactly get much time to-"

"Incredible!" her face shoots upwards to look Peter directly in the eye, pupils twinkling, her teeth in a perfect smile.

"E-excuse-"

She almost jumps from her seat, still holding the images. "I should show these to my publisher! He'll love 'em!"

"I-uh... what?"

"Quick! Quick, quick, quick, quick, get your butt through that door!" she points a thumb to a glass door to her right. "My boss, J. Jonah Jameson, _needs_ to see these. He's been on the prowl for decent Spider-Man pictures for _months_ , ever since that big Lizard debacle. I'm sure he'd pay you a _ton_ , and maybe even offer a job if you find yourself particularly lucky today."

She looks immensely happy. This Spider-Man picture issue must have become a tough case for her if she's acting this way after finding some decent images.

"Okay, okay. I'll head through right now," Peter nods, concealing his bustling excitement.

Her beam somehow grows wider.

 **xxx**

"They're crap," the elder man chucks one of Peter's photographs on the desk as if it's nothing more than a pile of dirt. "Crap, crap, crap, mega-crap." All the Spidey pictures were dropped haphazardly. "What, you got nothing _better_?"

"W-well actually-"

"I need pictures of that criminal doing _crimes_ , dammit. Don't waltz into my building thinking you can pass these pansy-ass child's play cookie-cutter pieces of crap in return for _my_ hard-earned cash. So, you got anything better?"

"N-no, sir-"

"Then get the hell outta my building, kid."

Peter is shocked, taken completely aback, though he does what he's told and moves forward to grab the pictures.

Suddenly a buzzer breaks the thick silence and Betty's voice rings into the room. "Sir, there's been an increasing surge in popularity for Spider-Man over these two weeks, even by superhero standards. The public want more."

"Damn. Idiots," Jameson presses a button on the intercom and turns back to Peter, his stern expression unfaltering. "Tell ya what, kid. I'll give you fifty bucks for the whole package."

"F-fifty bucks? Doesn't that seem a little... I dunno... _steep?"_

The older man leans back in his chair, hands positioned to comfort his head, "You're lucky you're getting more than two dimes for these useless pieces of cow manure. Take it. Or leave it."

Some rather unfavourable thoughts rush through Peter's head in that instant. He needs to focus on keeping his cool.

"Seventy-five or I take these to the Daily Globe."

Jameson leans forward with such an intense speed that even Peter is caught off guard.

" _What?_ "

"I-I said you gotta pay seventy-five dollars for my photographs or I-"

"No, I _heard_ what you said, kid. I just couldn't _believe_ my ears."

His loathsome frown pierces deep into Peter's soul. The threatening presence of J. Jonah Jameson is almost too much to handle.

"You..." he speaks slowly, savouring each letter before returning to his lax position in the chair, "have balls. Fine. Seventy. That's all. And don't you _dare_ show your acne-ridden face in my building again! There's the door."

Peter exits hastily, feeling the dominating peer of Jameson's steely eyes on his back with each step.

He sees Betty watching him cautiously as he walks out the door, a slight smirk playing at her lips.

She knew he would react that way.

"Sorry to throw you into the lion's den like that, but it's the only way I can get him to pay amateur photographers. My little plan worked."

"Uh... yeah. Worked," Peter nods absentmindedly, not looking at anything in particular. "He, uh, said he'd pay me seventy."

" _Seventy_? That's more than he's paid anyone under the age of fifty in _years_. You're something special, kid. I reckon I just might be able to land you a job in the good 'ol Daily Bugle."

Upon hearing this, Peter Parker's grin returns.


	24. Colloquium

_A Familiar Face_

The shabby, threadbare watch on his wrist read _21:05._

By the time Spider-Man landed on the Avengers Tower helipad it was _21:10._

Not particularly late, though he guessed Steve might've gone home by now.

He'd better check, in any case. It's better to be safe than sorry.

And it would give Peter the chance to have another conversation with either Bruce or Tony, which was a nicely added bonus.

To Peter's relief, Steve is seen seated on his favourite leather recliner, a bottle of Dr. Pepper in one hand while the other rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily.

He looked well beyond tired.

"Hey, Steve," Peter called timidly. The large common-room was empty beside Spider-Man and the grizzled war veteran.

"Nhmm?" his head inches upward to face Peter, eyes somewhat droopy, "Oh, kid. Sorry, sorry."

Standing in order to stretch his muscles, Steve shakes the sleep away from his heavy head and outstretches a hand to shake.

Taking it, Peter asks, "You okay? SHIELD looks like they're overworking you, old man."

Steve chuckles for a moment, setting his can of soda on the glass table. "Overworked is the understatement of the century. And, since I'm almost a century old, that line actually works."

Peter nods, wanting to know more though not exactly sure if prying for information at this point in time would be a good move. With all of the hub-bub inside S.H.I.E.L.D itself, it's expected of Captain America to be feeling a little worn out.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I should head back to my place. Running at five in the morning requires as many hours of sleep as possible. Remember that for when you wanna put some meat on those bones," the older man jokingly smirks, patting Peter's back.

As he turns toward the elevator Peter calls out, "W-wait! I had something I needed to show you."

"Oh?" Steve stops, facing Peter. "What is it? Anything Spider-Man related?"

"Well... yeah. I think. I'm not too sure."

"Let's hear it."

"Actually," Peter mumbles, taking the mobile phone from his pocket, "I have to show you."

They read the ominous text message. Steve appears to mull it over for a moment before looking at it again, only to continue processing something in his mind. He looks strained. Minutes pass.

"When did you receive this?"

"Just this morning. Around ten."

"And have you told anyone? Family? Friends? Other members of the team?"

Peter shakes his head. "No. I figured you should be the first."

"It... could be some form of a prank. But with everything going on, I'm not too certain that's the case."

"Exactly what I was _thinking,"_ Peter smirks nervously. "So what do I do?"

"I'll bring this to the attention of Maria Hill. Being that she's one of the highest ranking SHIELD officers, it's likely she could trace the sender's signal, or at least provide us with some ground to stand on. I'll make sure to visit her tomorrow."

The swelling anxiety in Peter's chest seems to diminish, if only slightly. He feels instantly better. The reassurance of Steve Rogers is enough to make almost anyone calm.

"If you don't mind, I should probably hold onto your cell phone," Steve continues, his eyes still noticeably heavy.

"O-oh, yeah. Right," Peter places it in the older man's hands, nodding.

"Now... you sure this is the first time this has happened? You've never been directly contacted like this?"

"No. Never. I - I don't really keep in contact with many people, so I was confused about how they even got my number."

Steve continues to rub his temple, deep in thought.

"One more question, kid..." he faces Peter directly, eyes now steely, focused, concentrated. "Do you know about anything which could put you in a dangerous position? Anything Avengers or SHIELD related? If so... your entire well-being, as well as those you love, could be in danger. Something needs to be done if you've come across secret information and other parties found out about it."

Peter's anxiety returns once again, heavier than before.

There's only one thing in the world these threatening text messages could be referring to: The _Time Leap Machine_.

But no. That's impossible. Both Bruce and Tony are absolutely sure nobody else knows about the device. They've gone through countless safety procedures. They've worked tirelessly to ensure it keeps its secrecy. Hell, not even the other Avengers know about it.

But Peter does.

So... could the messages _really_ be referring to the Time Leap device? Who could be behind this?

Is this the beginning of some sort of _conspiracy_?

Are Bruce and Tony aware of what's transpiring?

What the hell is even going on anymore?

And to top everything off, Peter now needs to lie directly in Steve Roger's face. The secret of the time machine needs to be kept under wraps. It's essential.

The more the Time Leap Device evolves, the bigger the chance it can be used for the wrong purposes. An enemy of the Avengers could use it. Hell, any idiot who knows how to input a few buttons could use it if they spent enough time figuring out how it works.

It's a hazardous piece of machinery; one which could destroy everything if used incorrectly.

For a moment, Peter truly realises how much danger the device presents, and he fully understands why both scientists are scared shitless about using it.

Steve is standing stock-still, awaiting Peter's answer.

Peter is shaking somewhat, not knowing exactly what to say.

Finally, he speaks.

"N-no. I don't think - I don't think I know anything important." It takes all his energy to muster up the lie, making it as believable and sincere as possible. This feels wrong. "I just do whatever my SHIELD burner phone tells me. Everything else beyond that isn't really part of Spider-Man's agenda."

The room falls into a warm silence after the last syllable leaves Peter's mouth.

Did the lie seem realistic? Was he acting weird? Would Steve be able to tell something's up?

The exterior of Captain America is impossible to read. His mouth is set in a straight, unwavering line. His bulking arms are crossed nonchalantly. His dominating figure towers over Peter, though not in an intimidating manner.

He seems protective.

Something clicks in Peter's mind.

Steve is trying to remain calm. He's acting pacific and in control - for the sake of his comrade. For the sake of his teammate and friend.

For the sake of Peter Parker. For the sake of Spider-Man's well-being.

"Good," Steve cuts the quietude in half, his tone firm. "I'll drop your cell by SHIELD in the next twenty-four hours. Stay safe, Spider-Man. A report should be directed your way soon enough."

Captain America turns to leave.

"Steve... I'm sorry about Director Fury-"

"Don't be. I'm more concerned about your health, kid. I don't agree with youngsters being in this particular line of work, so my attention is on you," he speaks softly, smiling slightly. He presses the elevator button and adds, "As long as my teammates are in good condition, both physically and mentally, I'll be alright."

The elevator doors open and he steps in. With a swift wave and another button push, Steve Rogers is gone.

 **xxx**

"You're still in bed? Get up, dude."

" _Nn...whaa?"_

Peter's eyes are crusty with sleep. He's dehydrated. And grumpy. And probably also has a cold.

Bless New York's winter.

"I said get up. Need you to accompany me with something."

"...Wha? T-Tony?"

Peter pulls the phone away from his ear, irritably, and checks the time.

 _1:54pm._

 _Crap_.

"I overslept?"

Tony audibly smirks over the phone. "Guess so. Anyway, I'm sending you an address. Dress appropriately. Get here at around four, okay?"

"Wha-"

The line goes dead.

Damnit, Tony.

Peter sits upright and rubs his eyes. It doesn't really help.

He tries to remember last night's events.

Steve had left. Peter checked Tony's laboratory downstairs, though nobody was there. Avengers Tower was empty, so he decided to go out for some crime-fighting instead.

As it turns out, fighting baddies in a spandex suit at negative-three degrees until the early hours of the morning isn't exactly the best of ideas.

Peter groans.

 **xxx**

He chucked on a pair of worn jeans accompanied by a decently priced jacket and left for the address Tony had sent.

There seems to be much less standing between the heavens and Earth in the winter. The grey skies descend to the land below. The dry air is frigid and clear of summer's impurities, leaving one to breathe the sky in its purest form. Winter smells of a painter's landscape: wet leaves, snowflakes and frozen tree bark.

Peter arrives at the destination. There's a large crowd outside.

He stands for a moment, consumed by the confusion, not knowing what to do or where to go. Someone knocks against his shoulder.

"Hey."

It's Tony.

He's dressed in typical Tony fashion - loudly.

"What're we doing here?"

"Welp, to be frank, not much. You see - a lecture is about to start inside that building. A lecture on time travel."

Peter's attention is instantly grabbed. "You want us to attend a time travel lecture?"

"Yep."

"...why?"

"The lecturer is an eighteen year old girl. _Eighteen years old!_ Can you even believe that? It's gotta be some sort of sham. As if she'd have any proper grasp on the concept of making a time machine. Her theories are probably completely off."

"Uh - okay. So... why are we here if you don't even believe in her?"

"Brucie wanted me to see if this girl actually has some decent scientific evidence up her sleeve. He's.. fascinated by time travel and young geniuses, so this is a win-win for him."

Peter nods. "Where is he, then?"

Tony sighs. "At my lab. Couldn't even take an hour off work. Apparently we're behind schedule, so he sent me to watch this children's show."

"Ah, gotcha," Peter faces toward the crowded building, his interest admittedly somewhat piqued as well.

An eighteen year old genius who gives lectures on time travel. To be fair, that does sound _pretty awesome_. Maybe it would be worth checking her out.

"Let's head inside before the wind freezes my balls off."

Typical Tony.

 **xxx**

They're seated in a decent-sized conference room.

The place is packed with college students, professors both young and old, and common pedestrians who are simply interested in time travel itself.

Or perhaps they just wanted to meet the genius teenager in person.

"She's quite the popular topic around the world. Here," Tony speaks, placing a newspaper on their table.

The front page reads _Genius Christina Felter, seventeen, publishes acclaimed memory retention theory worldwide!_

Peter looks at it, somewhat confused.

"Memory retention? As in-"

"Yeah. She also has her own beliefs and research on time travel using memory and the brain. ...It's basically the reason Bruce is so interested in the young _Christina Felter."_

Their conversation is cut short as the room falls silent in an instant. Peter and Bruce both look toward the stage.

A short woman walks to the front of the room in smallish steps. If Peter weren't so caught up in the event unfolding in front of him... he'd swore Christina looked somewhat nervous.

She lowers the microphone on the podium significantly, clearing her throat.

"Umm... thank you all for coming to listen to a young person such as myself. I'm kind of nervous, since this is my first time doing this, so I would greatly appreciate it if you overlook my blunders."

Peter is taken aback, though he instantly realises how inconsiderate his feelings are.

She's only eighteen, so of course she would be anxious about standing in front of dozens of scholars and professors. She's human, after all. He had been thinking of Christina as some all-powerful-all-seeing scientist genius.

But no.

She's human.

Peter smiles.

She takes a moment to continue, gathering herself. "Today, I've been asked to speak about my theories on time travel. Well, we should start at the conclusion. While I believe the study of memory retention is beneficial and interesting to society on the whole, I believe time travel _itself_ to be a child's dream."

"...what."

Tony doesn't look happy.

"Until now, many scientists have proposed many theories of time travel, but at the very base there are only eleven of them." She clears her throat again. "Neutron star theory. Black hole theory. Speed of light theory. Tachyon theory. Wormhole theory. Exotic matter theory. Cosmic string theory. Quantum gravity theory. Cesium laser theory. Elementary particle ring laser theory. Dirac antiparticle theory."

Tony pays more attention, saying in an irritated tone, "Exactly. That's a lot of damn theories. You gotta be bullshitting if you think you can disprove 'em all-"

"However, each of these theories are nothing more than hypotheses. Some of them even deny the possibility of others."

"Then what if a twelfth theory was proposed?"

Tony has spoken up, attempting to maintain a calm, nonchalant attitude.

Christina looks at Tony. For an instant her eyes appear to shoot wide open, as if in shock, though they revert back to normal only half a second later. Her ashen coloured hair sways to the right. She must dye it, Peter notes.

"Then it would be denied by the thirteenth theory."

Tony makes a groaning noise, muttering under his breath, "Brat."

Not wasting any time, Christina picks up her lecture. "Lets just focus on one of these hypothetical time travel theories: the cosmic string theory. I'm assuming you know what this theory is, Mister Stark?"

Tony nods slowly.

"Well, in order to successfully time travel using this theory you will need three objects. One: cosmic strings, two of them. They are hypothesised to only exist in the space where the universe was first formed, so they might be a little hard to find."

Tony makes another dangerous sound.

Peter isn't liking where this is going.

"Even if you successfully find them, you would need energy that would make them move at a speed close to the speed of light. A little hard to do, huh? Finally, you would need a space-ship that would be able to travel towards the location of the cosmic strings and back. What do you think, Mister Stark? Would you like to attempt cosmic string based time travel? It's considered one of the easier theories to comprehend and attempt, after all."

The room is silent.

Did she... just...

Peter looks to Tony.

Tony is smiling.

"Miss Felter... I'd like to offer you a job in my company."

 **xxx**

 _Amount of views on A Familiar Face while writing this chapter: 101,036_.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Over 100k total views to the story. You're astonishing. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoyed the latest instalment! Things'll be kinda crazy as Peter falls deeper down the rabbit hole ;)


	25. Tête-à-tête

_A Familiar Face_

"A position in your company?"

"Yeah," Tony nods, somewhat frowning. "A position in my company. Problem?"

Christina stares at both Peter and the older man quizzically. She looks out of place.

The lecture ended around ten minutes ago and was a huge success. Security invited the two superheroes backstage to speak privately with the teenage genius, away from any press.

"Well no, but..." She's choosing her words carefully, a puzzled expression on her features. "I have previous obligations. Responsibilities. I'm still in school, y'know. Homework can't just be dismissed on a whim."

Tony's face is priceless. Peter suppresses a chuckle.

"But this is _Stark Industries_ we're talking about. Perhaps you've heard of me? Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist? I make stuff. Cool stuff. Like Iron Man suits. I made those. I'm Iron Man-"

"I'm aware of your achievements. They're incredible, no doubt - I personally thank you for saving the city from those aliens - but I need to follow my own path. I'm sorry."

Peter is wide-eyed. _She's something else._

Tony is blank-faced and most likely deep in thought. Peter can't read his expressions overly well.

"The pay will be fantastic."

"I have my money sorted, thank you," she says blankly.

"The working conditions will be extraordinary."

"The labs on campus will be enough for me at the moment, thank you," she says blankly.

"You'll help work on new-age, never-before-seen stuff. Trust me."

"I'm already in the middle of making my own new-age, never-before-seen stuff, thank you," she says blankly.

Silence.

Tony scoffs, or maybe he chuckled in a playful manner. One of the two. Or perhaps both at the same time.

"I'm obviously barking up the wrong tree," he nods, smiling. "Shame. Oh well. Here's my card, in any case. Call if you think things over in the foreseeable future."

And with one final courtesy, Tony Stark leaves the room.

Peter watches as he goes and is about to follow suit before the words, " _Stay_ ," shoot into his right ear.

The voice was Tony's. The instructions came from a wireless ear-plug which Peter wore whenever out in the city in case of emergencies.

It appeared as though he was still needed, so Peter turns his attention back toward Christina and offers a shy smile.

"Interesting character. Don't worry, it's hard to work with him sometimes. You aren't the only one has trouble dealing with the _great_ Tony Stark," he says, suddenly using body motions very reminiscent of the ones Tony himself would use.

It's a fairly impressive impersonation, if Peter does say so himself.

Christina laughs, offering a slight head shake while covering her mouth.

"Was I too harsh?" she looks into Peter's eyes sincerely, a warm smile still evident.

Peter shakes his head, also smiling. "Nah. He needs someone to push against his ego every once in a while."

"Glad to hear. I'm Christina Felter, by the way. Well, I guess you already knew that _but_ we haven't exactly been properly introduced yet."

"True, true. I'm Peter Parker. Nice to meet you."

They shake hands.

Christina's eyes suddenly widen.

"Wait - wait. Parker? _Parker_? As in the Parker couple that died in the plane crash a decade ago? _Richard_ Parker? _Those_ Parker's?"

Peter is equally surprised. His heart starts hammering away.

"Y-yeah. He's my dad. _Was_ my dad."

"Dude."

"D-dudette?"

"Your parents were _brilliant_! They - wait, no - your dad mostly - he, like - was - dude, you have no idea."

"I... guess I gotta agree, but I don't remember too much about him."

"Right, right. You would've been six when he died."

Peter looks at her questioningly.

"How do you know tha-"

"I studied them for a paper back in Senior year. Went through everything, including offspring." She clears her throat. "Peter Parker, born 1997. Placed third in the Soho Photo contemporary competition early last year. Congratulations on that, by the way. Also, you were awarded a high distinction for your efforts in the National Science Competition two years ago. Not an easy feat. Glad to see a fellow scientist my age."

An awkward chuckle manages to escape Peter's mouth.

 _She's... something else._

"I see you've done your research. Don't think any of my friends even know that much about me."

Christina suddenly looks a little embarrassed, realising she might have overstepped her boundaries and seemed slightly creepy.

"Probably shouldn't have blurted that all out, huh. Researcher's intuition, I guess." She smiles again.

"Nah, I understand. It's... flattering. I didn't even know all that info was on the web, to be honest."

"Back on topic," she continues, "Do you happen to know what your parents were working on before they... you know-"

Peter interjects with, "No. I'm in the deep end. Nothing was left over."

He wanted to sound absolute; plenary.

The issue with his parents had long since been buried into the back of his head. There was no point wasting time by delving into that space of his life anymore.

Peter had long since moved on.

Well, forced himself to move on, more like.

Christina looks crestfallen.

"That's a shame. I was hoping you might be able to shoot me in the direction of some old research, but I guess it's just... gone. Bummer. Richard Parker really _was_ a genius."

Peter fakes a smirk and nods appreciatively.

His eyes feel slightly wet.

"Thanks."

The room falls silent. But, in a way, the silence is particularly soothing.

It was around five-thirty yet the birds outside were quiet. It seemed as if there wasn't a car within a three mile radius. Both he and Christina drank in the silence through every pore, soothed by it's meditative quality.

Peter takes another deep breath.

He realises he's shaking.

He tries to block out his emotions.

Each time a worrying thought emerged he mentally jotted it down on a notepad, wrapped it around a stone and threw it away into the abyss of his thoughts.

When his anxieties had finally leached into the void, he released an elated sigh and continued to bask in the nothingness surrounding him, cocooned by the thick protective buffer of the absolute quiet.

"You okay?"

Peter's eyes open.

Christina stares at him, her face blank.

"Yeah. I-I'm sorry-"

"My mother was murdered not long ago. I understand what it's like to feel like shit. No need to explain yourself, Mister Parker."

Once again Peter nods. "Thanks," he manages to say.

"So... you wanna go for a coffee?"

 **xxx**

The fading of the sunlight had also meant the fading of the heat. Wintry air swirled around the city, taking every lick of warmth it could. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, pulling his coat closed and tucking his chin downward into his pullover. His breath was now only visible under the sporadic streetlights, the few which lit up this particularly comfy thoroughfare.

Christina points toward a quaint coffee shop, also dressed in her noticeably fancier winter attire. "That's the place."

"You go there often?"

"Nah, I've only been to New York twice. I'm from Australia."

"You... what? Where's the accent?"

"My dad's American. Mum was Australian. The accents are interchangeable, I guess. Have you ever heard of that one actor? Andrew... what was it... Garfield, or whatever?"

"Yeah, yeah. From _Social Network_?"

Christina bobs her head. "He's British."

"No wayyy."

A few minutes later and both teenagers are seated across from one another, looking over the menu.

Might as well eat something while he's out, Peter rationalises.

Plus the small store had a heater, so staying for longer didn't seem like a bad deal.

From deep inside his chest, through every cell of my body, the warmth welcomed him like an old friend.

"May I ask what you want to be when you graduate? Occupation-wise."

Peter is taken aback by the question.

He isn't sure of the answer, truth be told.

"I... uh - I suppose I'll just take whatever opportunities come my way. I'm already top of the class in most subjects so a high GPA is kinda guaranteed, I guess." He shrugs. "I'll just make-do with whatever I'm given."

"You don't plan on going to college?"

Of course he wants to.

But Aunt May can't afford it.

And even though she desperately wants to make it a reality for her nephew, Peter can't watch as she struggles to acquire the money.

Peter doesn't exactly want to explain all of this so he simply shakes his head.

"Come work with me."

Peter almost chokes on his own saliva.

"Pardon?"

Christina's ashen hair sways as she bobs her head to the beat of the background music. "I'm with _Horizon Labs_. They looovveee teenage geniuses. Of course, I'll need to make sure all of your prerequisite work is completed along with ensuring that you actually _are_ as smart as I'm guessing. But, to be fair, any assistant of Tony Stark must be a special snowflake."

Peter thinks about this for a second.

It makes sense that being associated with Tony would have a nice effect on him. And since Christina knows of Peter's previous science-related achievements, it's possible she currently thinks very highly of him.

So she wants him to join her in the studies of science.

Horizon Labs.

 _Was this... Tony's plan?_

"I..." Peter thinks hard for a moment, staring unwaveringly at the wooden table they're seated at. Finally, after a solid moment of silence, he raises his head to Christina's level with eye-to-eye contact and says, "I'd like to try your offer out."

 **xxx**

"The pipes are all in place, Banner."

Bruce looks up from his laptop, eyes droopy and somewhat bloodshot. He hasn't slept in several days.

"And the bismuth? Is it with the lutetium already, or-"

"I did that days ago, Brucie. We're all set for the crown jewel."

The sleep-deprived scientist rubs his temple harshly and asks, "Any progress?"

Tony Stark offers an honest smile. "Parker's helping us out with that."

Bruce inclines his head, albeit sleepily, and jots down one final note before closing down the lab for the evening.

 _Time Leap Machine progress - 96.47%._


	26. Choice

A Familiar Face

Several days pass with Christina keeping in contact with Peter, working hard to procure a spot for him in the laboratories.

Eventually the lab manager for her particular division, Calvin Ross, agreed after viewing Peter's inarguably impressive resume.

It was a chilly Saturday evening when Peter entered the lab for the very first time for a quick introductory course, and what he saw amazed him.

The lab itself was wondrous.

Gleaming, swathes of stainless steel, sleek black tiled floor, glare of fluorescent tube lighting suspended from steel rafters, floor to ceiling windows down one wall, geeks in white laboratory jump-suits and black framed glasses, eight foot high steel cylinders of chemicals, mass spectrometer, centrifuge, circuit boards, trays of assorted microchips, computers, electron microscope, wires, coffee machines, high tech biscuit dispenser with lots of buttons, soft classical music piped throughout, slight smell of disinfectant with heavier overlaid scent of morning coffee.

He was allowed to explore and study at his leisure.

Mister Ross even allowed Peter to see their cherry on top - a compressor able to, well, compress almost any feasible matter. Peter could hardly believe his eyes.

When he returned to Stark Tower's laboratory in hopes of telling Tony his amazing discovery, the older man interjected with, "You saw it, right?"

Peter stopped in his tracks, confused. "Saw what?"

"The compressor."

Peter blanks. "Oh - yeah. Why?"

Bruce pokes his head out of the almost-completed Time Leap Machine and says, "That's the final piece."

"You're gonna steal it," Tony smirks, patting the teenager's back.

"Pardon?"

"You. Are. Going. To. Steal. It," Tony repeats slowly, head swinging left to right with each word.

"I'm guessing by final piece you mean it'll make the time machine run, right?"

"We're hoping," Bruce nods, walking over with his trusted notepad in hand, hair ruffled and oily. "All calculations point to Horizon Labs being our saviour."

"So we developed a sneaky, sneaky plan for Spidey-Widey. Wanna hear?"

Peter throws his arms up, desperate for his chance to speak. "Woah, woah - time out. We're stealing, now? We can't just steal! We're - we're the Avengers! Like what even-"

"Fine. You don't have to steal the compressor," Tony agrees. "You just have to snatch the schematics."

Peter burrows his brows. "That is exactly the same as stealing the compressor! Just easier!"

"Fine. You don't have to steal the compressor," Tony speaks again, his voice sounding falsely sincere. "You just have to help us gain Christina Felter."

"So you can - what - build your own compressor?"

"Precisely. It's the least illegal option of the three. Pick your poison." Tony's white teeth shine brilliantly as his features erupt into a toothy grin which stretches from ear to ear.

Peter looks imploringly to Bruce, hoping for any other option. Unfortunately all that's reciprocated is a kind smile accompanied with a shrug.

Peter sighs.

"I'll find a way to get her help."


	27. Ergosphere

_A Familiar Face_

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I've already informed Mister Stark of my reluctant refusal concerning his request."

Peter sighs, itching the nape of his neck.

It's been an entire month. No progress has been made in recruiting Christina Felter for her knowledge on the compressor.

Both Tony and Bruce are getting restless. The final piece to their grandiose puzzle is in arms reach, yet Peter can't quite seem to achieve his goal for the life of it.

"Nah, I understand. It's fine," he waves her off, turning to enter the Horizon Labs elevator. "See you next week."

Christina nods, folding a clipboard under her arms. "And please," she calls out as the doors begin to close, "stop being late."

His shift was over. It was now time to return to Avengers Tower, once again bearing news of his inability to make good on his promise.

"Oy, oy, oy," he mumbles. "Maybe it's better if I just _steal_ the bloody thing."

It's a viable option. Not entirely legal, though we're talking about a fail-safe to _save the world_ , here. It's a time-machine-thingy able to send someone's mind into the past to change the _future_.

Plus it would get Tony's incessant sarcastic jabs off his back.

Between juggling senior year, Spider-Man antics, Avenger missions, and now shifts at a high-end laboratory along with the odd Daily Bugle freelance job here and there, Tony's frequent remarks of his _laziness_ are just icing on the cake.

An hour passes.

 _"_ Well, gang," the philanthropist acknowledges both Bruce and Peter, once again finding themselves crowded around the Time Leap Machine. The workshop is warmly lit. Patches of iridescent yellows and oranges seep through the window blinds, and clouds are somewhat visible as Peter stares out at New York's concrete horizon.

At the edge of a rather large cloud was a brilliant white patch, like a turning page catching the sun. The rest of the sky was dove gray with a subtle hint of purple, just enough to announce the coming sunset.

"Christmas - the most joyous, sexiest time of the year - is fast approaching. I have a little proposition for the both of you. Wanna hear it?"

Peter and Bruce nod, the latter individual sipping on a mug of hot chocolate, obviously not favoring Winter's chilled atmosphere.

Tony continues, "I have a dream that one day, sometime soon, I'll be able to finish this damn time machine and go to bed. We're close - oh so very close. The compressor continues to elude us, however! Such a shame, such a shame."

Bruce speaks up, "Where are you going with this?"

"I'd constructed somewhat of an intricate plan to secure the compressor, or at least its schematics. Peter was supposed to seduce -"

" _Pardon, what_ -"

" - Miss Felter with his innocent, nerdish charm. She trusts him, that much is evident, though the girl just doesn't wanna help out Stark Industries. The only option from here is to steal the schematics."

Banner sets his hot chocolate down and nonchalantly points out, "That's illegal."

"First time you've ever done something _illegal_ , then?"

"Got me there."

Peter looks from Tony to Bruce once, twice, three times over. "We're really doing this?"

The older men glance at one another for a split second. Peter notices.

"Not _we._ Just your friendly neighborhood Iron Man. I'll use a stealth suit - fly over to their labs, hack into surveillance, find the motherboard, hack into _that_ , download the files and be on my merry way."

Peter is thoroughly unsure about the stability of such a plan. "You can do that? Without blowing anything up in typical Tony Stark manner?"

Tony feigns a gasp, clutching his chest. "I'm hurt, kid. I'm emotionally damaged at your insinuations."

"Tony'll be fine," Bruce waves the childish man off. "Don't worry about him."

The philanthropist stands tall, mockingly saluting his comrades. "To victory, my dear brethren. Three, two, one - commence!"

xxx

Night has fallen.

Peter, now donned in his Spidey attire, lies atop Oscorp Tower.

He comes here to waste time, or to relax away from Avengers Tower or home. Currently, he's waiting for Tony to complete his objective.

He's not at Oscorp for any particular reason - to be honest, this place brings bad memories - yet he also finds the area calming.

It's the spot of his first real triumph as Spider-Man, though also his greatest failure as Spider-Man.

The beeping of a cell phone breaks his contemplation. Sitting up, Peter reaches into his bag, expecting some text from either Bruce or Tony, or a random SHIELD task.

Instead, he locks eyes on the caller -

 ** _From: ehj350 h3_**

 _No no no no no._

Peter hesitates.

Damn. His fingers are trembling. His heart is racing. Breath is hitching in his throat.

 _No. No. No. N-_

He slides his fingers across the screen.

The text message reads: **-Chance = Blown / Persecution = Inevitable-**

Chance blown. Persecution inevitable.

Another image is attached.

 _Please no-_

Once again, the picture is grainy and hard to make out at first.

As Peter focuses further, he realizes a simple sink is encompassed in the picture. A sink. Nothing more.

The cell vibrates again.

Another image.

Same sender.

He opens the attached file.

The same sink. Red liquid now pours into the drain. Horribly messy handwriting is scrawled across the basin, forming the words, " **Your future**."

Peter is jolted back into reality as his Stark Tech earpiece buzzes, breaking his mortified concentration on the ominous images. God knows how long he was staring at the screen.

Tony's frantic, hoarse voice enters the teenagers' eardrums.

"JARVIS and I - we - we're locked out of my Tower. I can't contact Bruce."

"W-what do you mea-"

"Peter, stay away from the Tower. JARVIS managed to scan the perimeter right before we completely lost connection. T-there's other heat signatures on every floor. Bruce - his heat signal suddenly disappeared. I was blocked out straight after - straight after - shit. _Shit - SHIT!_ "

Peter's entire body is cold. Goosebumps. Shivers.

For a moment there's complete, unwavering silence. It almost destroys him.

Tony speaks again, voice so low and sporadic it's hard to understand. "I can't contact any other Avenger. SHIELD's been compromised. I need to save Bruce. Peter - Peter, you need to stay alive."

xxx


	28. Leap

_A Familiar Face_

 _"Stay alive_."

Peter could only infer so much from those words, though he inherently understood that the situation was riddled with danger.

His thoughts, while jumbled and sporadic, were focused on Tony's simple instruction.

" _Stay alive."_

Was Peter supposed to flee into hiding?

He could never return to Aunt May's home - the presented threat brings forth far too much danger. She deserves none of that.

Gwen's apartment? No. He feels the same love for her as he does for May.

There was nowhere to go.

Peter feels eyes on his back and inside his skin.

He feels dirty, in need of some form of cleansing.

It's entirely possible he's currently being watched. Hell, it's almost assured.

But by _who?_

Who are the nutcases continuously sending threatening images on his phone? Who has invaded Avengers Tower? Who has compromised SHIELD?

Was there even any point in hiding anymore?

If a fight was inevitable, why prolong it?

The Tower has already been compromised, and Tony frantically mentioned _SHIELD's_ insubordination. He sounded downright abhorrent.

This was no time to run. There was nowhere _to_ run, in any case.

Now was the time to go on the offensive. If the Time Leap Machine, and the Avengers themselves, were in danger, there was no other applicable option.

Besides... the Avengers - Steve, Clint, Tony, Bruce, Natasha, and Thor - have unwaveringly protected Peter these past few months. They've ensured he felt safe, secure and welcome while Peter traversed and settled into their world.

It appears as though it's time to return the favor.

So, without any further hesitation, Peter leaps from Oscorp Tower, plummeting toward the concrete jungle below.

xxx

The air is frozen lace on his suit, delicate and cold. Breath rises in visible puffs to join the darkened clouded night sky. There's a freezing chill in the air that brings crispness to the leaves, bejeweled with frost, that would most likely crunch underfoot.

Peter is most likely rosy-cheeked under his mask. Teeth chatter and the cold seeps into his gloves, numbing the fingers until they cease to bend properly, stiffened and frigid.

The Tower peaks into view, only minutes away.

He distinctly remembers Tony mentioning the security systems attributed to the entirety of the building - JARVIS maintains almost complete control over the complex, though if anything is suddenly compromised or out of order the Tower locks down completely before the issue is resolved.

During this lockdown, each and every entrance is blocked by several vault-like metal doors, hindering intrusions. The same goes with each window - they're blocked from the inside by massive metallic obstructions.

Now only seconds away from his target, the Avenger's common-room, Peter braces himself.

"Showtime."

He slams full-force into the window and subsequent metal shielding, ripping right through the Tower's defences. Everything is pitch-black. The intruders have obviously cut the power.

Voices suddenly fill the air, screaming orders and exclaiming the arrival of Spider-Man. It occurs to Peter that the intruders have meticulously concealed their tones through robotic distortion and manipulation, accentuating the eerie situation.

" _TARGET #3 HAS ENTERED THE VICINITY! CUT HIS ACCESS TO THE LAB!"_

With one quick reflex, Peter activates the night-vision embedded into his helmet and assesses the situation - _several men are littered throughout the room, each with a firearm and heavy armor._

Peter's eye-lenses provide further information - _heart rate of hostiles: between 130-170 beats per minute. Bodily armor: highly resistant to physical force. Weakest areas pinpointed: cranium, sternum, and clavicle._

While frantically analyzing the data, Peter's spider-senses flare dangerously.

Gunfire. It was a violence to the still, eerie serenity of the pitch-black room - a noise that heralded death and destruction. It cracked into the air as loud as thunder but without the raw power of a storm.

Peter leaped to the ceiling and launched himself from one corner of the room to another, swiftly landing abhorrently powerful blows to either the head, shoulder blade or chest of every hostile.

Some were knocked completely out and required no further effort, though others were far more dedicated to their objective.

Peter would disarm them by webbing their rifles, though the killers simply drew their combat knives and continued to assault.

The elevator suddenly opens.

More men pour into the area.

" _KILL THE PIECE OF SHIT!"_

Further statistics flash across Peter's lenses.

 _Hostiles: fourteen._

 _Average heart rate of hostiles: between 140-180 beats per minute._

 _Firearms detected: rifles, shotguns, silenced sniper rifle._

This doesn't deter Peter.

At this point in time, nothing will.

The room falls into chaos. Each frantic bullet rips into something, be it inanimate or living, spilling concrete from the walls or spurts of blood with equal unfeeling.

Peter's heart drops.

He expected the soldiers to restrain their fire while one of their comrades stood in the line of fire, though they're simply mowing down their own men in a desperate attempt to take down the target.

This is madness.

More men go down.

Peter ducks and covers, narrowly avoiding the spray of shotgun fire. He succeeds for the most part. Some shrapnel embeds itself into his arm.

It hardly matters now.

His forceful fist knocks a soldier from one end of the room into the other, the body crashing through anything in the vicinity.

Further shotgun fire.

Peter leaps, landing right beside another attacker as he swiftly elbows the killer with enormous strength. Their legs give way as additional screams of pain fill his eardrums.

Peter turns with ferocity, landing eyes on the final hostile.

 _Only one lef-_

A final gunshot.

Vision goes woozy.

Room is suddenly oddly shaped.

Peter looks down.

A sniper bullet has pierced his shoulder.

He looks back at the intruder, shooting a web with his undamaged arm directly at the attacker's sternum.

It connects, and Peter pulls the figure toward him, reeling a fist back with intense, almost incredulous strength. It collides with the chest of the shooter. Blood spurts from his mouth.

The room falls into silence once again.

Peter laughs, his knees wobbly.

Laughing hurts.

"G-guess... I need some more training from... t-the 'ol Captain," he exhales. "Ouch."

Without wasting any further time, ignoring the carnage and destruction of the room, Peter enters the elevator.

xxx

The doors to Tony's laboratory are sealed shut.

Peter activates his earpiece.

"T-Tony... It's ya boy Peter. Bleeding out. And requiring severe medical a-attention. My arm is all - all numb... Oof.."

He stumbles, almost falling to his blood-drenched knees.

" _Peter?!"_ Tony's voice echoes, concerned and strained.

The doors unseal.

"Open sesame," Peter chuckles, relieved.

Tony, in casual attire, rushes out of the laboratory and toward the teenager's shaking body. "You were told to keep _safe_! The people above are _not_ playing around, kid," he whispers sharply while supporting Peter's body, hoisting the boy inside.

Peter cracks a smile and nods, "Oh, I know full well."

He stumbles further, though Tony provides stability. Peter notes profuse bleeding from the older man's temple. "Tony, you-"

"I'm fine," he sets Peter onto a chair beside the Time Leap Machine. "Don't worry about me."

This doesn't quell Peter's concern, though several hundred other important questions are attempting to escape into the open air at this particular moment.

"T-Tony... what on _Earth_ happened?"

The billionaire is tinkering with his machine, specifically focusing on an entirely new compartment. "It - long story - It's a long -"

"Shorten it," Peter speaks firmly, holding his gunshot wound. Thankfully, Tony hasn't noticed the considerable damage to Peter's body.

No further distractions are needed, it seems.

"I got - got the Compressor. In and out - sneaky, sneaky - like I said I would." He inhales sharp breaths. "Suddenly, JARVIS picked up strange signals, both inside the Tower and inside SHIELD. I looked into it. The signals were connected."

Peter frowns. "The guys up there - they were _SHIELD?_ "

"No. SHIELD's been compromised. The new director - Pearce - is Hydra. I dug some more - they've known about the Time Machine for months, waiting for an opportunity to take it."

Peter shakes his head. "You said this was completely off the radar. How the hell could they have found out!?"

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Tony diverts his attention to Peter. "Do you remember the connection I established between the Machine and SHIELD? Those sixty-four direct lines which would allow the time travel process to initiate at incomprehensible speeds?"

Peter nods, suddenly understanding the situation.

"They noticed the lines."

Tony nods slowly. "They noticed the lines. They took out Fury to ensure Pearce was elected the next SHIELD Director, and they waited for an opportunity to strike. The Tower was invaded, all communications were blocked, and I have no idea where any other Avenger is."

The already strained heart in Peter's chest continues to ache. "Not even Bruce?"

Tony exhales, shaking his head, eyes forcefully shut. "He was gone by the time I came back. They've taken him. They-"

Scuffles are heard from outside the laboratory doors.

Tony slowly rises to his feet. Peter attempts to do the same, though the blood loss and pain from his bullet wounds are far too much to manage.

"P-Peter? No, no, no-" Tony finally notices the wounds, looking mortified; shaking.

Before he can do anything to help the teenager, the laboratory doors burst open.

Gunshots in movies and video games are abundant, each one only marginally increasing the viewer's adrenaline. Here, however, they are as good as a hypodermic to the heart. Each one isn't simply loud. They crack into the air and echo around the room, magnifying the feeling of sudden vulnerability.

Tony moves swiftly, motioning his arms frantically in an odd manner. Peter realizes he's summoning suits.

Sure enough, several old Iron Man armors positioned around the lab spring to life and leap at the incoming attackers. The original Mark III rushes to Peter, completely protecting him from the incoming fire.

Over the immense pounding of the gunshots, Peter distinctly hears Tony. "THE MACHINE! IT'S READY, KID! _USE IT_!"

The entire room halts into a slow crawl. Slow-motion.

Peter looks down at his wounds. The sniper bullet left a gaping, dark red hole that oozed thickly, but hundreds of different tiny wounds – like shrapnel - were shattered across his arms and leg. The shotguns wounds from earlier, he assumed.

He was going to die here, tonight.

" _Pe-_ "

What were his last words to Aunt May? He can't even remember.

" _PETE-"_

What were his last words to Gwen? He can't even remember.

"PETER-"

What were his last words to Uncle Ben?

He... remembers.

"PETER, THE MACHINE!"

Tony's words force themselves back into Peter's pulsating head.

Now wasn't the time or place for contemplation.

Now was the time to save the world.

Time suddenly returns to it's original speed. Peter attempts to stand once more, his legs almost completely giving way.

The Mark III offers a hand, which Peter accepts.

He's hoisted to his feet, now determined to reach the Time Leap Machine's headset.

Determined to undo this entire ordeal by traveling to the past.

The Mark III remains by Peter's side, firing rockets and machine ammunition at the gunmen. They're never-ending.

The entire floor is almost completely drenched in flames.

Another bullet hits Peter.

He grunts, taking it in stride.

"C'mon. Don't die on me now, irradiated super-powered body of mine," he breathes. "Can't die now."

He reaches the headset.

Machine gun fire continues to fill the room.

The Mark III looks almost completely decimated at this point.

Peter places the headset on his ears.

With no time to waste - his wounds now unbearably, insurmountably agonising - he activates the machine.

Turning, he finds Tony's face one last time, the older man fighting alongside his own Iron Man suits.

Their eyes suddenly meet.

Peter thinks he sees Tony smile. Or smirk. Or beam. Or a combination of all three.

It disappears all-too-quickly, however.

Tony's body hits the floor, now riddled with bullets.

Peter, unable to register the death, succumbs to the pain of his wounds and loses consciousness as the Time Leap Machine sends him into the past.

xxx


	29. Chaos Theory Homoeostasis

_A Familiar Face_

Where was he?

Memory.

Consciousness.

Vision.

All cloudy.

Torrents of sound like ultrasonic waves roar from a speaker in the center of Peter's brain.

His head hurts.

Or should he say... the pain is coming from behind his eyes?

It's as if hundreds of long needles continually stab through his brain.

Can brains even feel pain?

" _Aagh,_ waahhh _!_ "

It's not just pain.

Pain, shivering, and itchiness.

Like his whole body is on fire.

Peter wants to take off his skull and tear out the brain.

His head's going crazy, driven by various impulses...

Who am I?

He struggles to breathe.

Almost suffocating.

Needs oxygen.

Pain, shivering, itchiness.

He then notices an abhorrent groan. Only seconds later, he discovers the sound is seeping from his very own throat.

Trying to stop, Peter instead dives into a fit of hellacious coughing and wheezing.

The insides of his throat feel as if they're completely set ablaze. He desperately attempts to inhale air through the coughing and spluttering.

It hurts.

He's drenched in sweat.

The drops hanging off his forehead are irritating. Peter wants to wipe them all away.

He tries with the back of his right hand. The appendage moves, slowly, and fulfills his wish.

Peter's bodily senses are far from normal. Right now, his body feels one beat off from his will, as if it's not his own body.

As if his nerves aren't communicating properly with his extremities.

He tries blinking slowly. It might just be his imagination.

 _Am I just tired?_

The words flutter through his brain.

 _I have been working long nights, to be fair._

Timidly, Peter attempts to move his hand again.

It doesn't feel out of place this time.

This is his body.

"Peter? You listening?"

A familiar voice.

Peter takes the earphones slowly from his head, placing them back into their original spot.

He turns to face the voice.

Tony.

He gives Peter a perplexed look.

"What happened, kid? You suddenly yelled."

 _What's he talking about?_ Peter questions silently.

"You feeling bad?" Tony prods.

Peter tries answering, though his voice doesn't cooperate. Bewildered, Peter clears his throat several times and attempts to speak again.

"I - I'm fine. I think."

Tony eyes him cautiously. "What were you doing with the Time Leap Machine?"

Peter blanks.

 _What?_

"N-nothing?"

Tony shakes his head, defeated. "Alrighty then. Anyway," he turns, grabbing a wrench from a nearby work bench, "you still okay with the plan?"

Peter's heart wilts.

"Plan?"

"Yeah," Tony's perplexed eyes look over Peter once more. "The plan. I'm gonna head over to Horizon to grab the compressor. Remember?'

Peter almost chokes.

He digs into his brain for memories.

Like a chain reaction, several scenes, several words, several smells...

... flash back into his mind at one singular instant.

 _"JARVIS and I - we - we're locked out of my Tower. I can't contact Bruce."_

 _"SHIELD's been compromised. I need to save Bruce. Peter - Peter, you need to stay alive."_

 _"The new director - Pearce - is Hydra."_

 _"PETER! THE MACHINE!"_

Tony's death.

Peter remembers.

He remembers it all.

He time leaped.

"Where is this?" he speaks quietly.

"Huh?" is Tony's confused response.

Peter grabs the older man's shoulders and draws near.

 _"What time is it now?! What month? What day? What time?!"_

 _"_ H-hey, ouch! Calm down, kiddo!"

Bruce runs into the lab.

"What's happened? Tony, you- _Peter?!_ "

Relinquishing his grip on Tony, Peter turns to Bruce.

" _What time is it today?! What's the date?!"_

Bruce hurriedly checks his watch.

I-It's the eighteenth, a little past five in the afternoon."

... _the eighteenth?_

 _Avengers Tower... is attacked tonight._

 _Bruce is captured._

 _Tony is killed._

 ** _What is this?!_**

 _Was the Time Leap Machine... successful?_

Peter remembers his webshooters can also provide the time and date.

Frantically activating the function, he stares hard at the numbers.

 _Dec 18th. 5:14pm._

 _Around four hours until Tony is killed._

"Y-you guys. You-"

The words don't come out.

Beneath his feet the concrete floor felt soft, not as much as even a firm carpet, but not right for cement.

Peter staggered to the edge of the room, his jeans brushing against the hard wall. It was suddenly difficult to make out the details of the laboratory.

He attempted to walk towards the older figures, though he didn't make the first step. Staggering backward, his mind swirling, his breathing shallow until Peter finally hit the floor.

 **xxx**

He wakes with a start.

Bruce hurries over.

"How's your temperature, Pete? Lemme have a look-"

Peter stands without giving Bruce the chance, his feet wobbly.

"N-no. Bruce, you gotta leave."

"What? What's wrong?"

Before he can answer, Peter notices the darkness of the room.

The sun has fallen. Night has invaded.

" _Where's Tony_?"

"Left a few minutes ago to get the compressor."

"Sh-shit," Peter can hardly breathe.

It seems the Time Leap Machine packs a rather unsavory punch.

"Peter, if you just tell me what the problem is, I will do everything in my admittedly large range of power to fix it."

Their eyes lock, and Peter's trepidation almost fades completely in favor of steely determination.

"The Tower's gonna be attacked! Soon! Y-you'll be captured and Tony will - s-shit-"

Bruce prods further, his brows burrowed into a deathly frown.

"Tony will what, Peter?"

The younger boy shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. We need to lock the Tower do-"

His sentence is cut in half - a reflection of the sudden power cut to Avenger's Tower.

"No, no, no, no-"

The room is enveloped in darkness.

Both Peter and Bruce shoot their eyes to the doorway leading into the outside hall.

Several red beams flash in and out of existence. Laser sights.

Guns.

"Looks like the cavalry is here," Bruce mutters, slowly pulling his glasses from his eyes.

"Bruce - Bruce, it's too late. There's too many out there. You were captured last time, and they'll find some way to do it again.

Bruce visibly wilts.

"What do we do?" he whispers.

Peter can sense the tension in his voice, however hard he attempts to hide it.

What _was_ there to do?

Fight until death?

Or...

"The Time Machine. You gotta send me back! Tony activated it last time, but - but I blacked out. I couldn't save you."

Bruce nods, thinking. "We won't be the only Avengers targeted. It's safe to assume every other member is currently in one situation or another. They've found a perfect opportunity to break us." He turns back to Peter. "The compressor isn't inside yet, but we have no other choice. I'll calibrate the Machine to send you back as far as it'll allow without the compressor. You should have a day or two, at best. If it works, that is."

Peter nods.

He hears footsteps growing closer in the hallway.

"Do it. I'm ready."

Bruce hurries to the contraption, his head low.

Faintly tapping several keys, he audibly curses and turns back to Peter.

"It's unstable. Too dangerous. I can't let you-"

His eyes widen.

Tranquilisers.

Several dozen.

All slam into his chest, piercing the skin.

He mouths something to Peter.

Peter doesn't understand any of it.

Instead, he rushes to the machine.

He slams the earphones over his ears.

He feels bullets enter his body.

He screams.

Once again, a black void consumes him.

Peter time leaps...

... now with a plan.

 _To save his friends._

 _To stop Hydra from securing the world._

All he needs to do...

...is find every member of the Avengers...

...and save them.

 **xxx**


	30. Starmine

_A Familiar Face_

There it was again.

That same head-rush from the previous leap.

An uneasy feeling fluctuating through Peter's entire body.

Fortunately, though, it's nowhere near as prominent as before.

Peter's memories also appear to remain.

The second leap had hardly affected him at all, it seems.

The best possible scenario.

He needed all the time he could gather to successfully stop HYDRA.

Peter lifts the earphones from his head and places it on the table.

A protuberant sense of familiarity washes over him.

Suddenly coming to his senses, Peter slowly activates the watch feature on his concealed webshooter.

Half scared to death, half curious, and half unsure of himself, Peter was 150% a mess.

The time and date popped up.

 _Dec 16th. 7:36pm._

Fifty hours from now the attack is executed and the Avengers fall, along with the security of the world.

No pressure, Pete.

Turning, he inspects Tony's lab.

It's exactly the same as before.

... Or should Peter say, it's exactly the same as two days from now?

Confusing.

Peter scratches his head.

 _Why is he here, though?_

If he remembers correctly, on the evening of December Sixteenth he was sparring with Cap, Clint and Natasha in their advanced training room.

So how did he end up in Tony's lab?

Did he skip out on training?

Leave halfway through their session to use the earphones?

In order for the Time Leap Machine to correctly work, Peter from the past was required to wear the earphones, resulting in a successful memory transfer.

Deciding he won't uncover an answer by standing around, Peter enters the Avenger's hang-out room.

Surprisingly, Steve and Natasha are playing Uno while Clint searches through the fridge, all looking completely normal and entirely ordinary.

 _They're fine,_ Peter thinks to himself.

 _Fine... for now._

Steve looks up.

"You came just in time to watch Miss Romanoff's downfall," he smiles, placing down a yellow card.

He had only one card remaining.

Natasha scoffed. "We'll see, big guy."

She places down a card, successfully changing the color to blue.

"Ha!" Steve beams, placing down his final card. A blue one. "I win."

"Actually," Clint turns, undoing the cap on a carton of milk, "You didn't say Uno, Cap. Draw four cards."

"Ah. Damn."

A slight needle pokes into Peter's heart.

It's the kind of needle you _really_ hate.

You know the one.

Everything is going fine. Everyone is having a blast. Nothing is going wrong.

But you just _know_ that it won't last.

Things will go wrong.

Nobody will be fine.

In Peter's case, he is 100% certain of the oncoming situation.

In Peter's case, he is 100% certain that everything is on a downward slope.

In Peter's case, he is 100% uncertain as to whether he can truly fix the future.

But he needs to try.

"Not bad for a first try. I'm joining in," he hears Clint say, taking a seat beside Steve.

They begin shuffling cards.

Peter almost breaks out into a yell, wanting to tell his friends of the upcoming danger.

Remembering the last time leap, though, where he inexplicably screamed at both Tony and Bruce, he realizes he'll only sound crazy.

He needs to be smart about this.

So he starts asking questions.

"Hey, guys, how did our sparring go earlier?"

It's not much, but at least it'll clear up the current situation.

Unfortunately, though, all three Avengers stare at Peter quizzically.

Steve answers first. "We didn't have a session today." He checks his watch. "Too late to start tonight, either. You have school in the morning. Tomorrow's good for me, though," he smiles simply.

The other members nod.

Peter wilts.

 _They never sparred_?

 _Did the time leap machine undo that event?_

 _Crazy._

"So you're all free for tomorrow?" he asks.

"Steve and I have a little assignment in the morning. Shouldn't take too long. Guessing we'll be back by the evening," Clint admits, "But otherwise, we're gravy."

Natasha places a cup of coffee to her lips before speaking. "I have papers to hand in. Won't take all day."

 _I know where they'll be tomorrow, at least_.

Peter inwardly sighs.

On December 17th, Clint and Steve will be on a mission while Natasha hands in papers. Peter already knows that Bruce and Tony will seclude themselves in their lab once again.

That's everyone accounted for.

The next step was to ensure that they remain safe.

If Bruce was correct in his assumption that every Avenger's member was funneled into a hopeless situation at the same time, that would explain Tony's inability to contact any of his comrades.

Since Director Pierce is, in fact, HYDRA, it's extremely likely he now knows the Avengers through and through. They're now his responsibility, after all, with Fury being killed in action.

It's highly possible he's crafted meticulous contingencies for every possible circumstance to break the Avengers, and subsequently secure the machine.

They _are_ the Avengers, after all.

Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

A formidable force.

Though, if Peter is unable to change the train-tracks of time, Pierce will decimate them all.

"Steve. Gotta talk to you for a sec," Peter speaks up.

The soldier turns, his face looking completely normal while his eyes showed a deeper form of emotion.

He could tell something was wrong by Peter's tone.

Or maybe it was the way Peter worded the request.

Either way, Steve knew something was up.

Standing to his feet, the two leave the room and find themselves in the hall, far from earshot.

"You okay? Miss Hill still hasn't found any trace on those creepy messages, but if we give her some more time-"

Peter cuts in, head shaking. "Not about that." He blanks. "Well... technically, it's about that."

"Something new popped up?"

Peter blanks again.

 _Hold on_.

 _I can't just blurt this out._

 _He'll think I'm a nut._

 _'Mister Steve Rogers, Sir, I came from the future where a bunch of deadly mercenary guys kill Tony, capture Bruce and steal a super secret time machine. Woops.'_

 _Not happening._

 _But he needs to know. About Pierce, at least._

 _Something needs to happen._

"I know this'll sound completely insane, but the new Director isn't a good guy."

No change in Steve's emotions. Stone-faced as ever.

"Go on," he nods.

"He's HYDRA. Now, I don't exactly know what that means, but I know it isn't a good thing."

Steve's brows furrow the tiniest bit.

Not the reaction Peter was expecting.

The older man simply looks deep in thought.

Eyeing Peter, he asks, "Any evidence?"

"N-No. But two days from now, he'll attack Avenger's Tower. I-I can't explain how I know, but it's the truth. Everything goes to shit."

"Language," is Steve's simple response, though he begins to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

After a moment, he concedes, "I've spoken with Director Pierce on several occasions. Admittedly, the guy... I dunno. Didn't seem overly trustworthy. Would prod about Nick Fury's death endlessly. Something about him didn't feel right." He looks back at Peter, "But that's nowhere enough evidence to attack him with. Currently, we can't touch him unless I have a face-to-face with him."

Peter curses.

"Language."

"Sorry."

"The attack you mentioned... - What happens?"

Peter exhales. "Tony dies. Bruce is captured. Neither of them can contact you, Clint or Natasha. It's a monstrosity."

"And you're saying Pierce is responsible for the attack? That he's with HYDRA, and they take the Tower?"

Peter nods.

"I... hm..." Steve mutters, now leaning on the wall. "Alright. Tell you what. I'll head over to the Triskellion right now. If I take the bike, I'll make it before Pierce leaves." Peter almost flips out, but Steve holds up his hand. "Don't worry, I won't do anything rash. Just a conversation. I promise."

Peter's head is still swimming.

Admittedly, it's rather annoying.

But he's relieved.

It's slight, but it's relief nonetheless.

Steve continues speaking. "Do you know the purpose of their attack."

Peter nods, frantically making up a plausible story. "Yeah. They wanna steal something valuable from Tony. If they get it, their power will increase by a metric ton. They want it bad enough to attack every member of the Avengers."

It isn't a complete lie.

Steve seems to understand, at least.

"Listen," his voice is solemn, low, "I trust you. You seem completely serious, and I have no reason to believe you'd do anything to jeopardize our unit. If you're serious about this, I'll trust you, one hundred percent."

Peter looks him dead in the eyes.

"I'm serious. I've seen what happens... and I never want to see it again."

"Alright, kid. Tell Tony to move whatever HYDRA is trying to steal out the building. Hide it in one of his high-end vaults or something. Just get it outta here."

Peter nods, elated.

Steve continues, "I'll inform the other Avengers. _In person_. We're going to limit our wireless comm use. They probably already know _far_ too much. Once Clint and Natasha are aware of the plan, they'll come with me to Pierce. Tony will move his valuable item. We'll get Bruce as far away as possible. If Pierce really _is_ wanting us dead, we'll just catch him off guard."

Pushing himself off the wall, Steve stretches.

"I'm ready. How about you, Mister Amazing Spider-Man?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

 **xxx**


	31. Event Horizon

_A Familiar Face_

 _"Though nothing will drive them away,"_

"Interesting song choice, man," Clint practically beams. "I love Bowie."

"Bruce said it's an album I should check out," is Steve's simple response, nodding to the beat while helming the wheel of Clint's car.

As it stood, both Clint and Natasha agreed that traveling together in a car would be the best option.

In a situation like this, sticking together was crucial.

Tony had already been called. He agreed to move the Time Leap Machine to a secure location, though he told none of the Avengers where exactly that was.

When Bruce was informed of the present dangers, he too accepted his role and took a cab somewhere far, far away.

He could be anywhere now.

 _"We can beat them, just for one day"_

"Another ten minutes before we arrive, lady and gents," Steve turns.

Natasha sets her phone down. "How about a game?"

"Wasn't aware I had to pack any board games for the trip," Steve scratches his head.

"No, a _driving_ game. You ever played I-Spy, big guy?"

Steve scoffs, "I'm seventy, not seven-hundred."

"Alright," she smiles, "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... 'R.'"

 _"We can be Heroes, just for one day."_

Peter smiles, listening to their antics, though eventually the song seeps into his ears and garners his attention.

 _"Though_ nothing, _will keep us together,"_

It's a somber song. Rather melancholic.

Something about it just seems to fit right in with his current emotions.

He feels somber; melancholic.

 _"We could steal time,_  
 _just for one day."_

But... Peter feels content.

He's terrified, obviously, but he's content right here, right now.

With the help of the Avengers, he'll push through anything thrown his way.

They're at his side.

So there's nothing to worry about.

 _"We can be Heroes, for ever and ever_  
 _What d'you say?"_

"We're here, guys," Steve turns, now looking for a park.

The Triskelion isn't overly busy at this time in the evening. An empty spot wasn't hard to secure.

Shutting the door behind him, Peter asks, "So, do we walk in and ask to speak to the Director, or...?"

"I'll secure an audience. Try to, y'know, get any information I can from him. Probably won't amount to much, but it's worth the try nonetheless. Miss Romanoff is a different story," Steve responds.

At this, Natasha clears her throat. "I'll place a few wireless ports around the place. On computers, modems, hard drives, anything that could contain the juicy stuff. Obviously, they can be found, but the download won't take long. Thirty minutes at most. If we find something incriminating, it won't matter if they find my ports or not."

Clint stretches. "What about if we don't find anything? Hiding important HYDRA files in the Triskelion doesn't seem like an overly smart idea."

Steve shrugs. "We accept the consequences and make up a plausible excuse."

"What do I do?" Peter asks.

" _I_ happen to have an office upstairs," Clint smirks. "Being with SHIELD for so long _does_ provide perks. We'll hang out up there while the others do their thing. Don't wanna look too suspicious."

"Pfft. We already look _extremely_ suspicious," Natasha laughs. " _The_ Captain America walking inside a potentially HYDRA infested mega-base with a vixen of a spy by his side? And you, Clint, taking some random teenage boy up to your office?" She laughs again. "HYDRA or not, we're about to raise some eyebrows over here."

"You're right. Sh-"

"Language," Steve cuts Clint off.

The sliding doors part to make way for their entrance.

As Natasha expected, the group garners much unwanted attention.

"Does this happen every time you walk in?" Peter asks somewhat nervously.

"Oh, hell yeah," Clint nods. "Never once gets annoying."

The sarcasm could've been heard from miles away.

"Alright, gang. Let's split up," Natasha does a little thumbs up. "Fred, you go see if our monster is upstairs. I'll go do smart people things. Shaggy and Scoob, you should check office 253 for any clues."

"Roger dodger," Clint replies dryly, turning toward the elevators.

The group, now ready for whatever may come, disbands.

 **xxx**

Clint's office.

The plaque on the door reads " _253_."

They enter.

It's a reasonably sized room.

There's just enough space for pacing, though Clint has various stacks of paperwork strewn across the carpeted floor, so walking is somewhat tedious.

"Excuse the mess." Taking a seat at his desk, Clint rubs his eyes. "Paperwork, man. I'm telling you. Oof."

"Yeah, seems like you have a lot on your plate." Peter sits opposite to Clint.

"Honestly, I don't mind it. But now that HYDRA is suspected to be involved with my _job_ , I'm a little apprehensive."

Peter doesn't know what to say.

So he simply replies with, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Uncovering a conspiratorial plot against the Avengers? We should be thankful for you, man," Clint smiles. He still looks dead-tired, but he smiles.

Peter nods. "It's just... a real messy situation we're in."

"Kid, do you know what an _imbroglio_ is?"

"An altercation or complicated situation."

Clint chuckles. "So you're smart _and_ a superhero? You won't _need_ to work in an environment like this if you got brains. Well... if you, y'know, wanna keep being an Avenger the work is compulsory, but..." he chooses his words carefully. "Whether you wanna stay in this line of work or not is completely up to you. But it's dangerous. It isn't ideal. It can break families, the promise of a simple life, and most of all - it can break _you_."

Peter thinks for a moment. "Honestly... I already know all of that first-hand."

Clint sighs. "I'm sorry you're dealing with all this crap when you're so young. Your life is just one big shitstorm." He chuckles again. "A cool one, but a shitstorm nonetheless." He looks into Peter's eyes. "You and me _both_. And Cap. And Natasha. And Tony. And Bruce. We're all one big screwed up shitstorm of a family. And I love it."

Peter chuckles too, for the first time in what felt like ages. "I love it too."

Clint exhales. "Kid... you nervous?"

"Oh, hell yeah. Terrified, actually."

They both laugh. It wasn't a joke - rather, it was completely serious. But Clint must feel a similar way because he laughs alongside Peter nonetheless.

"We shouldn't be worrying. Steve Rogers is gonna use his completely insane sense of justice to knock the American dream right back into Pierce's face. Could end in a fight," Clint shakes his head, "No, it'll almost definitely end in some kind of fight. Probably won't happen tonight, but it'll happen."

Silence washes over them for a minute or two.

It isn't uncomfortable.

Peter quite enjoys it.

"Do you have a family, Clint?"

The features on the older man's face didn't change. He nods, though.

"Yeah. Amazing wife. Two... beautiful kids."

He speaks slowly. It appears as though he's talking to himself more than Peter, relishing in the importance of those valuable individuals in his life.

After another moment, though, he looks back at Peter. "Due to, y'know, my line of work, Fury ensured the family would be kept outta the databanks. They're in a homestead off the grid. Only Natasha knows about this." His solemn features light up into a slight smile. "My kids call her Auntie Nat. Adorable."

Peter smiles too.

Clint continues. "I, uh - I met my wife back when I was a teen. Probably your age. She helped me through a ton of issues and, honestly, I've never truly repaid her for that. I'm trying to be better. I want to spend more time with my family, to show her how much she means to me, but alas, the world needs saving."

Peter thinks back to Bruce's words before the second time leap.

" _It's safe to assume every other member is currently in one situation or another._ "

This means that Clint was targetted too.

He might've been killed.

He still _might_ be killed. Two days from now.

Peter is angry.

 _Very_ angry.

Nobody deserves this. Nobody deserves to have their life taken away for the sake of a _machine_.

Is this Time Machine... really _worth it_?

"You okay?"

Clint was always looking out for Peter. He hasn't stopped, it seems.

Peter nods, "M'fine."

"Good."

Another moment of calm silence.

It helps to bring Peter back into reality.

He can't let his emotions go haywire. Last time that happened, he yelled at Bruce and Tony and got nowhere.

"Truth be told," Clint continues, "I have another kid on the way. Hoping for a baby boy. I wanna get back home before it's born." His eyes turn steely. "Nah. I _will_ get back soon. I need to see them again."

"You will," Peter responds.

 **xxx**

A knock on the office door.

Peter's eyes shoot toward it hesitantly.

Natasha enters slowly.

"Download's almost done."

"Steve still up with Pierce?" Clint stands to his feet, stretching again.

Natasha nods, "Should be down soon. How you two doing?"

"We're pristine, as always."

Natasha beckons them over. "C'mon, we're heading back outside. Tony's here. His important thingy's been moved. We'll tell him what's happening."

Something feels off.

Steve has been talking with Pierce for over twenty-five minutes now. He said he'd only be having a simple conversation.

Have Clint and Natasha noticed this too?

Peter could've sworn they sounded a little anxious.

 _Is he... okay?_

They take the elevator down to the lobby.

As they walk toward the entrance doors, they hear the beep of another elevator stopping at the ground floor.

Turning, Peter sees Steve exit.

He looks completely normal.

Walking fast to catch up with the group, he joins in seamlessly and they exit the building.

"Steve?" Clint whispers, unsure of himself. "What happened-"

"We're in trouble."

Natasha's eyes widen a little.

Clint's mouth closes, eyes cold.

Steve's face looks hard as stone.

Natasha speaks up, whispering like Clint. "Tony's parked somewhere here. We'll find him."

Steve simply nods.

Clint clears his throat and says, "How much trouble?"

"A shit ton."

Steve Rogers just cursed.

Very surreal.

"Is it trouble we can dig ourselves out of?" Natasha asks coyly, a smile playing at her lips.

Steve, although against his will, also smiles. "We're the Avengers. We'll dig ourselves out of the hole and bury HYDRA inside it."


	32. Divergence Singularity

_A Familiar Face_

"Excuse me."

An unfamiliar voice.

Peter sees Steve, Natasha and Clint stop dead in their tracks, shoulders taut - rigid.

They all turn.

The unfamiliar voice belongs to an unfamiliar face.

A middle-aged man walks out the Triskelion entrance, smiling warmly.

"That young man." The unfamiliar voice motions toward Peter. "Would I be able to speak with him for a moment?"

Nobody answers.

Several seconds pass before Steve, obviously against his will, is forced to nod.

"Thank you kindly."

The older man beckons Peter back inside.

Clint softly puts a hand on Peter's back for reassurance, carefully concealing the gesture so the man doesn't see.

Peter, without saying a word, walks into the building.

"Terribly sorry to be taking up your time," the gentleman says sincerely. "Ah. I'm Alexander Pierce if you didn't already know. Director of SHIELD."

Oh.

Great.

Peter didn't realize the situation could _possibly_ get worse.

But he was, as always, proven wrong.

"N-nice to meet you. Peter. Uh - m-my name's Peter Parker."

"Lovely to make your acquaintance," Pierce offers his hand. Peter shakes it. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, we should head upstairs to discuss a rather delicate matter."

Oh.

Great.

Things are _actually_ getting even _worse._

 _Groovy._

They take the elevator to the top floor.

When Peter steps out he instantly notices the ritzy, pristine architecture and detailing of the hall leading to Pierce's office.

Truly an area fit for a king.

"It's just up here," Pierce smiles again, walking ahead.

Peter, unable to do anything else other than play along, follows suit.

A young woman sits at a desk outside the office doors. She nods to Pierce, though her eyes light up when she sees Peter.

"New employee? Hi, I'm Kate-"

"Just a visitor, Miss O'Mara. Continue your work," Pierce says simply, though his smile and sincere demeanor remains.

The woman nods, eyeing Peter one last time before returning her gaze to the computer at her desk.

The office doors open automatically as Peter approaches.

Once inside, Pierce gestures toward an undoubtedly expensive leather chair. "Please, take a seat."

"With all due respect, sir," Peter speaks somewhat shakily, slowly lowering himself into the chair, "I'd like to know why I'm here."

"Of course. Well, you see, being appointed the new SHIELD Director meant I was required to study the various... _groups_ in our organization. You know - the Task Force, the Psi-Division... and the Avengers. Since these groups are now essentially under my jurisdiction, I needed to evaluate them. Deeply," Pierce speaks slowly, as if he's unsure Peter will follow. "Anyway, there were six files for the Avengers. One for Tony Stark, one for Steve Rogers, one for Thor, Hawkeye, Widow, Hulk, etcetera, etcetera."

Peter gulps.

Oh.

Great.

The situation has swiftly diverged from a regular life-or-death to situation to a _completely_ - _100%-death-ensured-situation._

 _Groooovy._

 _"_ Parker, was it? You still with me, or...?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry, sir," Peter frantically focuses his attention on the predicament at hand.

"Please, call me Alexander. Anywho..." the older man's features _still_ remain warm and polite, though his voice is now entirely lackluster and empty.

Not exactly _cold_ , but not welcoming in the slightest.

"... I noticed there was no file on that _Spider-Man_ individual. Strange, I thought. Either Fury simply forgot to write the report, or... he intentionally kept that guy off the grid..."

Peter, now _far_ too uncomfortable for his own good, focuses on taking slow breaths.

Anything to calm himself.

The air suddenly isn't as breathable as it was five seconds ago.

"... I looked into the issue, however. Spider-Man. A teenager. Seventeen years of age. Midtown High. Second best in his classes - aside from Photography. He's first in that," Pierce now turns his gaze from the oak desk to the anxious Peter. "Peter Parker. Spider-Man. They aren't two people," he raises both index fingers, slowly joining them side by side. "They're one."

"Look," Peter maintains his innocent tone, "I don't know _how_ or _why_ you believe I'm that Spider-Man guy, but you're wrong. I'm just a bookworm who can't pass gym class."

"You're exceptionally good at hiding it, I must say. Very commendable, truly," he bows his head as some twisted form of respect, "But we both know the time for games is over."

This _really_ riles Peter up.

The teen leans forward, voice low, "I have no idea what you want from me, or the other Avengers for that matter, so cut to the point. I don't exactly have much _time_."

"Ahh... time," Pierce nods to himself. "You just hit the nail on the head."

"...Time?"

Of course, Peter already knows exactly what Pierce is after.

The Time Leap Machine.

Peter knows of the future attack.

But that's the thing.

It happens in the _future_.

Peter can't mention the attack here, not now.

Especially not in front of this terrifying old dude.

"Yes, Mister Parker - time. That's what I'm after," Pierce leans forward also, directly facing Peter. The teen doesn't dare back down. "I'm after the contraption procured from Tony Stark and Bruce Banner's combined research. That... Time Leap Machine, I think you've taken to calling it. _That's_ my objective."

"I - uh..." Peter can't speak.

How in the _hell_ does someone even reply to that?

Pierce appears to wait for Peter's response, though he continues after realizing it'll never come. "You see, that device contains technology I _need -_ technology which will ensure the world's inherent protection for decades to come."

 _Take some mental notes, Pete. This is important._

Pierce continues. "The technology will allow me to create sentient artificial intelligence."

Peter wilts.

"Artificial... intelligence?

"AI, yes."

"Uh - no offence, sir, but you sound completely crazy."

"Please, call me Alexander," the Director's smile returns. It feels nowhere as sincere as it previously did. "Allow me to explain. I've taken months to study that Time Leap Machine - how it works and whatnot. By using the activation process, instead of sending someone's memories into the _past_ , I'll be able to send someone's memories into a _computer_. This will break _all_ limitations. The AI lifeform will transcend the past, present, _and_ future. And... I want it to be me. I want my data to evolve. I want an endless life."

Oh.

Great.

This crazy old guy, who not only is the Director of SHIELD but _also_ a HYDRA member and enthusiast, wants to upload his memory into a big HYDRA computer.

 _Groooovyyyy._

"But... why?" Peter speaks, legitimately confused.

Pierce nods knowingly. "It sounds crazy. With technology in this day and age, though, everything is connected. I'll have access to everything _ever_ remotely SHIELD related. Any of its secrets and future plans - all mine."

"That'll allow you to help HYDRA evolve and conquer, right?"

Pierce smiles again, looking _far_ too happy with himself.

 _He's enjoying this._

"So... you figured out it was me who procured those intimidating messages?"

"No. But you just confirmed my suspicions."

"Splendid. We're now on the same wavelength, Spider-Man."

" _Please,_ call me Peter."

Pierce chuckles.

The _nerve_.

"Well... my master plan lays right on the table," the Director continues. "I take the machine, reprogram it to focus on the pulse of memories stored in the temporal lobe, upload the data, and I become immortal; all-seeing."

This catches Peter's ears.

"Temporal lobe? You're gonna mess around with memories?"

"Just like Stark and Banner. Their research is flawless. Human memories are stored in the cerebral cortex, particularly in the temporal lobe. They're... a lot like flash memory. The part of the brain that reads and writes these flash memories is called the _hippocampal gyrus_."

Peter knows this. Over the months, he's grown quite knowledgeable over memory data and whatnot, all thanks to those two brilliant scientists.

"You're insane for thinking you can create AI with that machine," Peter speaks lowly, angered.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the brain functions by sending electrical signals between cells called neurons. _Memories_... they're actually just the transmission of those electrical signals, and it's the hippocampal gyrus that controls 'em - creating our memories. Bruce Banner focused on the patterns of electrical signals going in and out of the gyrus."

This Pierce guy... knows his stuff.

It's creepy.

He's practically giving a full-blown lecture as if it's common knowledge.

He's weighing Peter down, making sure the teenager _knows_ just how far he's willing to go to attain his desires.

"...Once the pattern data was recorded, Banner created the basic theory that allowed time travel. I gathered a team to focus on that very theory to create a system to turn a person's memories... into digital data." Pierce smiles the most insincere smile yet. "Which means... storing and accessing a human's memories on a computer is completely, undeniably plausible.

"You - you're insane." Peter's mind is in full-pelt overdrive. "B-besides - Bruce's research has never been proven to work. T-the machine's never been used-"

"You're a liar. A horrible one," Pierce shrugs. "You'd think having a secret identity would require the person to be a good liar, at least."

Peter stands to his feet, fists unintentionally balled. "How am _I_ the liar?! You're a HYDRA conspirator!"

Pierce chuckles. "The only reason you should know that is if you've seen evidence. I'm guessing you survive the attack on the Eighteenth and do a time leap. Huh. Guess it _does_ work, Mister Parker. Woops."

"You - you're _really_ something else, y'know. A really, _really_ bad dude."

"That's one of the nicest things I've ever been labeled as. Thank you. Now, Mister Parker, if you wouldn't mind showing yourself out. It _is_ a school night, after all. Study hard."

Pierce gestures toward the door.

Peter obliges.

The doors automatically slide open, though he stops, turning to face the Director one last time.

"...How did you find out about the machine?"

Pierce adopts his sincere demeanor yet again. "Tell Tony his untraceable sixty-four lines to SHIELD aren't all that untraceable."

 **xxx**

Everything is wrong.

The situation is _very_ out of control.

Out of control _and_ wrong.

 _Groooovvvvyyyyy._

The elevator halts to a stop.

Peter steps out and notices all of his teammates, aside from Bruce, assembled in the lobby.

They needed to know _exactly_ what happened up there.

They need to know about Pierce and his plan.

Because if Pierce is happy with actually openly _admitting_ to the plan, he must be pretty confident in its probability of success.

They later arrive back at Avengers Tower.

The sky is a murky grey.

Now with everyone in the hang-out room, Peter explains the ordeal.

He explains _everything._

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Tony looking down, entirely uncomfortable, with a shaky hand on his temple.

After all is said and done, the room falls into silence.

One minute passes.

Two.

Three.

Steve eventually stands, taking initiative.

His arms are folded.

Brows furrowed.

He exhales.

"Tony..." he says slowly, voice reminiscent of gravel. "...You made a _time machine?_ "

 **xxx**


	33. Vexation

_A Familiar Face_

"Y-yeah," Tony visibly wilts. His skin is an unhealthy pale, with beady eyes and sweat protruding from seemingly every pore on his face. Despite this, however, Tony stands to his feet and attempts to downplay his quivering voice; attempts to reassert his dominance. "Yeah, I _did_ make a time machine. Bruce _and_ I, actually."

Steve simply scoffs, head shaking in disbelief with both arms crossed firmly - he looks speechless. "You're a maniac; _delusional_. Tony, I don't know what in the _hell_ you were thinking but- I - I-"

Tony interjects, completely forgetting to maintain his tone. Anger is now palpable in every syllable, his face contorted and strained. " _Don't_ reprimand me, Rogers." He storms forward, stopping only inches away while staring directly into the emotionless face of the Captain. "You think I don't _know_ what I've done?!"

Steve's position doesn't change. He remains tall and firm - a wall. "I _hope_ you know what you've done, Tony. This isn't some childish game anymore. Lives are at stake, and it's entirely on you. I just..."

"You what!?" Tony is seething, embarrassed, angry, tormented, afraid - alone.

Steve sighs. "I just thought you were better."

Tony's posture loosens. He too scoffs, darting his eyes away from Steve and toward the ceiling. Tony shakes his head. He taps his feet. Eventually his brows furrow, pupils once more directly, unwaveringly, at Steve. " _Screw you._ "

"Actually, Tony..." Steve shrugs, uncrossing his arms while walking past the billionaire as if he were nothing more significant than air, "...I believe you've screwed us all already."

Pieces of the Iron Man armor fly directly into the room like lightning, rocketing past all Avengers at almost incalculable speeds and subsequently attaching to a now enraged Tony. His robotized voice echoes throughout the common room. " **How about some sparring, Cap?!"**

Steve turns to face his opponent and chuckles, rubbing his temple. "You sure you wanna do this? I don't exactly have much _time_ , but I could certainly fit a lesson in."

Tony nods. **"Yeah. I'm getting rusty."**

Iron Man flies across the room without a moment's hesitation, tackling Steve to the ground before tossing him like a ragdoll into the ritzy wall of glass overlooking New York City. Steve lands unceremoniously on the concrete skyscraper walkway almost 500 feet above the city below, with Tony following directly behind him.

"You know this won't solve your problems, right?" Steve coughs, staggering to his feet. Glass visibly protrudes through his tank-top and jeans at various points.

Tony walks menacingly toward the Captain, facial expressions shielded by his Iron mask. " **Obviously. But kicking your ass is definitely gonna alleviate some stress.** "

Peter is now anxiously on his feet, eyes darting back and forth between the dangerous walkway battle and Natasha and Clint's apparent lack of interest in said battle.

"Hey guys, shouldn't we - I dunno - stop the _fight_?" Peter breathes exasperatedly. Clint shakes his head, turning toward the elevator. His emotions are unreadable.

"They'll figure it out," is all Clint manages to say. It's easily apparent the Avenger is in no mood for talking.

Peter looks at Natasha, who additionally looks detached from the entire situation, deep in thought.

This, in all honesty, should've been expected. There was no possible way the Avengers would be unphased by the sudden prospect of inevitable death at the hands of a secret time machine. If anything, they're probably _seething_ with hatred for Tony.

Tony dragged the Avengers into this mess. It was Tony who created the machine. Tony who kept it under wraps. Tony who messed around with SHIELD's data connections. Tony who sealed the fate of his friends.

... But Peter is also responsible.

Peter had the power to talk Tony out of the entire ordeal - the power to destroy the obviously dangerous machine at any point. The power to tell his fellow Avengers of the secret contraption. The power to stop these events from ever conspiring.

Peter had the power to be responsible.

But he did not use it.

Tony's voice continues to echo into the night sky, his angry roars mixed with palpable anguish.

The billionaire feels responsible too, more than anyone else in the world.

Steve slams his shield directly into Tony's armored kneecap, following through with a hellacious attack that directly connects with the suit's power core.

Tony staggers, releasing another yell before delivering a terrible slap that sends Steve flying further across the walkway.

" **I'm sick of your bullshit**."

Steve chuckles once more, wiping the blood from his cheek. "Yeah, well, I'm sick of you placing your teammates - your _comrades_ \- into compromising situations.

" **You know damn well it wasn't my intention for any of this to happen!"**

"Listen to yourself, Tony! Please! This _has_ happened! And you need to accept your failure before you can fix-"

Steve cannot finish. Tony's metal hand is now wrapped dangerously around the war veteran's neck, squeezing harshly. " **I WILL fix it! I - I"**

Peter swings into the battle, webbing Tony's visor before interjecting between the two to allow for Steve's release. " _Stop the fighting_. I know boys will be boys, but momma's gonna have to break this up before anyone gets hurt."

Steve is crouched on the ground, coughing and spluttering. "K-kid - you gotta back off. I can't let you get involved too-"

"I'm already involved, sir. Sorry, but I'm to blame for this whole situation just as much as Mister Stark."

Steve shakes his head, aiming a smile at the floor. "You got balls."

Tony raises an arm, blaster at the ready. " **Get out the way."**

Peter is dumbfounded. " _Really?!_ You're _actually_ gonna keep fighting each other? We don't have any time for this, Mister Stark! C'mon-"

" **Kid. Get. Out. The. Way."**

Peter stands tall, protecting Steve Rogers from any further harm. "...Mister Stark... I'm sorry, but... now isn't the moment to be fighting amongst ourselves. We're a team."

The three individuals are now silent - Steve on the ground, Tony with a blast at the ready, and Peter directly in the crossfire.

An egregious amount of time passes.

Tony finally breaks the silence, stifling a curse before lowering his arm. He turns away from Peter and Steve, not daring to look back until he re-enters the Tower.

Peter, now feeling some semblance of ease, loosens his firm stature. Leaves scud over the concrete walkway and take small flights into the air. He tosses his head back, eyes to the sky as a faint smile spreads from freckled cheek to cheek. The branches of the city below sway like the arms of a crowd, their chaotic dance hypnotically beautiful. Peter's mind, for the very short time being, relaxes.

Eventually, rain falls.

The pitter patter creates a shield around both Peter and Steve. Silver puddles form on the walkway. The sky is gray.

Peter feels his shoulder being tapped, and he and the war veteran eventually find themselves back in the Tower as well.

xxx

" **We're gonna attack the Triskelion** ," Tony exclaims to the group, who all surround the Avengers war-table.

Each and every member looks disjointed - unsure of themselves. Peter understands this.

For all they know, their imminent, inescapable death is only days away.

" **No more of this waiting around bullshit. If we wait, the HYDRA bastards will launch their own agenda. If Peter's right about all of this... we don't make it out alive _and_ they grab my machine."**

Natasha interjects, "Should we not just go into hiding? If they can't find us, we don't die."

Steve dismisses her idea. "Pierce is the Director of SHIELD. He has oversight on each and every one of us. There's no way we can outrun him. And, according to Peter, we'll all attacked at a specific time only a day from now - which most likely means we're all being tracked anyway."

" **If we want Pierce taken care of, we do it tonight. I have hundreds of suits. Those HYDRA pieces of shit won't know what hit them if we all attack at once."**

"It's just not that simple, Tony," Steve leans on the war-table, his brow furrowed. "We need a proper, concise, and effective plan of attack."

Natasha breaks into the conversation again, "Bruce needs to be part of the attack. He can keep HYDRA busy while everyone else does the dirty work."

Tony's armored hand raises. " **I enjoy that idea. A lot.** "

"Alright, alright..." Steve sighs, deep in thought. "Natasha, I need you to find him as quickly as possible while we head to the Triskelion. And - and _Hawkeye_. We need him to place arrow charges at specific areas to create damage."

Natasha nods. "Leave it to me."

Peter enters the battle-talk, standing as tall and rigid as he possibly can. "I - I know I'm not qualified for this - or, uh, old enough to - I dunno..." He releases a shaky breath, reevaluates his sentence, and continues talking. "I understand the danger, but I need to help. I'm partially responsible for this. Let me join."

There was no discussion to be had. This battle was Peters, too. If HYDRA is to be defeated tonight, he _must_ help. The Avengers...

... are his comrades. Teammates. Family.

The group stares at him.

" **Course you're coming, kid. You have every right to place Pierce six feet under the ground."**

Steve stands too, his arms crossed firmly, cheek bloody, teeth visible in a small but noticable smile. "We need you, Spider-Man. You're an Avenger. This is your mission, too - your duty.

xxx


	34. Opening Night

_A Familiar Face_

 _December 16th._

 _11:52pm._

The Avengers are traveling to the Triskelion.

All members are flying within one of Tony's pristine helicopters - excluding Natasha, who is currently rendezvousing with one particular Bruce Banner. It appeared as though they keep in close contact, regardless of whatever situation is unfolding. Natasha didn't disclose any info on his whereabouts, however - his privacy is paramount.

" **You're all being awfully quiet tonight,"** Tony speaks, a forced hint of nonchalance in his otherwise robotised Iron Man tone.

He's worried.

"Your Avenger status will be reviewed once this is all over," is Steve's concise response. He continues to tinker with his magnetic shield upgrade - the weapon in question zips to and connects to his gauntlets with impressive speed.

" **My - my _Avenger status?"_** Tony chortles - scoffs - and leans forward. " **After tonight, there won't _be_ any damn Avengers program left. We're kinda attacking our boss right now. And thank God it isn't Fury - he'd destroy our asses.**"

"Tony... now isn't the time for-"

The billionaire cuts Steve off, rising to his feet. " **Uh - actually, Captain Cold Shoulder - right now is the _perfect_ time for jokes. _And_ drinks. Anyone want a drink? An ice cold beverage? Anyone?"**

The helicopter's inner walls conform and change at Tony's words, revealing a myriad - a plethora - of varying alcohols, spirits, wines, whiskeys, and more than enough glasses to sedate Manhattan.

Peter, who is both terrified at the prospect of attacking the Triskelion while also battling his almost insurmountable fear of aircraft travel, actually stifles a chuckle.

Clint slowly stands, shrugging, and takes a glass. "Might as well. Could be my last, eh?"

Tony pats the archer on the back enthusiastically. " ** _That's_** **the attitude we need. How 'bout you, Cap?"**

Steve shakes his head, "I don't drink before a mission."

" **Well... maybe you should."**

Steve considers this.

Only a moment later and the elder soldier is on his feet, viewing the choices of alcohol on offer. "Oh, what the hell. Fine."

Tony raises both arms in a celebratory gesture. " **Guarantee you will _not_ regret it, icebox!"**

"Don't call me that," Steve says noncommittally, pouring and subsequently taking a shot of vodka. "Oof."

" **Strong one, eh? Balkan 176 vodka. Triple distilled. Biggest kick in all of Scandinavia. Got like 13 health warnings on the bottle itself, but nobody needs to know that."**

Steve, although coughing abhorrently, chuckles and appears to be significantly more relaxed than when he stepped foot in the aircraft. Peter watches as the two teammates, who were engaged in combat only an hour or so earlier, are now deep in conversation over health-risking Scandinavian vodka.

"You're gonna kill me before I even start the mission," Steve laughs.

Peter watches them for a moment longer before turning his attention toward Clint, who is drinking in solitary.

"Nervous?" Peter asks, walking over.

"Not particularly," the archer holds up his beverage, "Haven't had a drink in far too long, though. Guess I'm a little on edge. How 'bout you, kid?"

Peter shakes his head. "No. Not anymore. There's nothing to be nervous about. We're the Avengers - and they're a bunch of crazy death-worshipping snake people. And they need to be taken into custody."

"Easy for you to say, Mister 'Extraordinary Spider-Strength' Dude. They probably won't lay a scratch on you while you're flying around on your ropes," Clint smiles.

"Oo, that's a new one. I could also be known as the Sensational Rope-Man, if we're attacking my identity here," Peter shrugs.

"The Sensational Leaping-Dude."

"Clever," Peter nods.

"The Amazing Crawling-On-Walls-Guy."

"Now you're just being rude."

"Everyone's got a shtick these days," Clint mumbles jokingly, shrugging. "I have a bow and arrow, for God's sake. And - and there's a billionaire playboy suited in magical flying armor. _And_ a seventy-year-old propaganda war veteran. _And_ a Hulk. There's also a Hulk. And we're about to attack the granddaddy of special law-enforcement, espionage and counter-terrorism agencies. This is just one big weird shitstorm."

Peter shrugs. "Sounds kinda fun to me."

Clint smiles, "Could be enjoyable."

"Especially with a Hulk on our side."

Clint finishes his ice-cold beverage, sets the glass down and stares directly into Peter's visors, "Trust me - Hulk will be having the most fun of anyone here."

" **Hey, uh - speaking of the aforementioned Hulk..."** Tony turns to the Avengers, throwing his shot glass to the floor, "... **He's just entered the scene.** "

The helicopter tail opens. Iron Man suddenly launches himself out of the aircraft and into the open air, rocketing toward the Triskelion faster than any military jet...

...with the Incredible Hulk taking furious leaps toward the building, as well.

xxx

 _December 17th._

 _12:03am._

"Sir, the Avengers appear to be approaching."

Director Alexandar Pierce sips on his whiskey, unperturbed. "Yeah, I'm aware." He coughs. "They're preparing for a full-scale attack. I want the entire Triskelion under lockdown, with the Avengers contingency plan in full effect."

Pierce's assistant nods, already walking out the door.

"Oh, ma'am," Pierce calls out. The assistant stops, turning to face him. "Tell all available soldiers to set their firearms to lethal. This is a no-prisoner situation - the Avengers die."

"But, sir-"

"They are a national-tier threat. If the son of Odin suddenly decides to join in on the fun, this little situation escalates into a _world-tier_ threat. The Avengers are now enemies of the state - war criminals. Update all SHIELD databases and inform all staff."

"...Yes sir."

The assistant leaves, shutting the door behind her.

Pierce contemplates the presented situation for a moment and laughs at the incredulousness of it all.

Tonight will be a long night.

He places a finger on his earpiece, activating it.

"Attention, all of my HYDRA brothers and sisters. This message is being broadcasted directly to you all. _Operation: Godfall_ is to be carried out immediately, as of this moment. I repeat - _Godfall_ will be carried out _tonight_. The Avengers _must_ die. Do it for your leader - your mighty HYDRA lord. If they cut one head off..."

Several hundred voices enter Pierce's eardrums, all echoing one concrete statement in unison - "... _ **Two more will take its place!**_ "

Tonight will be a long night.

A night of snakes.

Pierce coughs again. "Take that chopper out."

xxx

 _12:05am._

 _5000 meters above the Triskelion._

Steve secures his shield firmly across his back and sprints toward the now open helicopter tail hangar. " _GO TIME! JUMP! JUMP! **JUMP!** "_

He leaps.

As does Clint.

And, finally... so does Peter.

The cold winter air hit his visors and they instantaneously mist up. For a few seconds he was blind, though they cleared just as fast and revealed the world far below - a tapestry of concrete. The cold air rushed past and rippled against Peter's suit as he accelerated faster and faster. After some time, he eventually felt as if he were floating and not falling at all. But the incredible Triskelion tower's roof was getting relentlessly larger and closer.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to count to three. Pull too early and the parachute might snag on the plane's tail. Even so, his hand was clenched and he had barely reached three before he was pulling with all his strength. The parachute, which was meant to blossom open above Peter, jerking him back upward to allow for a leisurely descent, did not work. He pulled the harness again - to no avail.

"Pull the cord!" Steve instructed to the team through his earpiece.

Peter was petrified. "Mine isn't working!" But as he tugged at the cord that could save his life, he repeatedly failed to properly deploy the parachute. As he hurtled towards the unforgiving ground in tandem with his teammates, it occurred to him that his fear was - in a sense - entirely fruitless.

As the remaining Avengers deploy their chutes, littering the skyline like the confetti of a summer wedding against a perfectly dark sky, Peter instead rockets directly past them and positions himself into a firm pencil dive.

As gravity took him fiercely toward the concrete below Peter struggled to claim any of the air that rushed by for his own lungs. The city lay before him like an architect's model, with only the matchbox cars moving along the slim gray lines.

" _KID_!" Steve bellows, his roaring, trembling voice echoing throughout each and every Avenger's earpiece.

Suddenly, without hesitation, Peter shoots a biocable which only _barely_ connects to the Triskelion's walls, stopping his fall so abruptly that Peter almost feels his arm tear off - even with the super-strength.

He's safe.

"G-guys... I'm a-alright," Peter speaks into his earpiece, crashing harshly into and subsequently sticking onto the concrete wall.

Only seconds later and his parachute deploys.

"Perfect," he mumbles to himself, detaching the parachute while simultaneously climbing towards the roof to meet with his comrades.

It was at that moment when Peter heard an explosion far above him.

He looks toward the night sky and witnesses Tony's copter in complete flames. A series of new flashes broke out, lifting and spreading the incandescent radioactive gasses, and then a great gush of flame rose. A large quantity of pure hydrogen must have rushed up into the hangar's vacuum created by the explosion; the next blast of flame, in a lateral sheet, came once more at thousands of feet above the ground, and great rags of fire, changing from red to violet and back through the spectrum to red again, went soaring away to dissipate in the upper atmosphere. Then geysers of hot ash and molten rock spouted downward, to the city below; some of the white-hot debris landed almost on cars and buildings.

"Woah..."

HYDRA knows they're here.

Another roar enters the battlefield - one Peter has never heard before.

Suddenly Bruce - now in the entirety of his Hulked form - leaps from seemingly nowhere and lands on the ground hundreds of meters below.

The Triskelion releases more missiles, its defenses now trying desperately to destroy Bruce.

He leaps into the air again, attempting to avoid damage.

Though the Hulk was no match for SHIELD's automated weaponry.

The missiles collide with the green beast in midair - an instant later there was a blinding flash, like sheet-lightning, and a huge ball of varicolored fire belched upward, leaving a series of smoke-rings to float more slowly after it. That fireball flattened, then spread to form the mushroom-head of a column of incandescent gas that mounted to overtake it, engorging the smoke-rings as it rose, twisting, writhing, changing shape, turning to dark smoke in one moment and belching flame and crackling with lightning the next.

Peter is speechless.

The night sky is illuminated by fire.

Though the Hulk simply roars once more, emerging from the desolate destruction above as if it had barely even affected him. He continues his assault on the base, destroying as many pieces of defensives weaponry as he can.

"Spidey _, you gotta get up to the roof! Hurry! Stark's already entered the building like an idiot. Hulk has our back. C'mon!"_

Steve's orders clash against Peter's concentration on Hulk's battle, clearing his head.

Shooting a few more biocables, the harsh winter air continues to assault Peter's suit as he reaches the roof, witnessing the Avengers in battle with dozens of armored men - the very same men who will attack Avenger's Tower in an attempt to steal the Time Machine.

Peter dives into the fight, webbing goon after goon after goon while soaring through the air. They attempt to shoot him down, but Steve and Clint stop the mercenaries with powerful attacks before any actual damage can be done.

Clint executes a roll, releasing two-dozen arrows simultaneously - all at once - to knock around twenty HYDRA agents unconscious in unison. "Spidey, get in the building. We'll be right behind you. Tony's gonna get himself killed!"

"Don't worry about us, soldier!" Steve turns, shield in hand. His face is bloodied. "We'll be alright. GO!"

Peter doesn't contemplate his choices.

He simply nods, salutes his friends, and leaps from the roof once more.

Spider-Man shoots a web against the wall before crashing through the window and landing within the Triskelion's top floor - where Alexander Pierce resides.

There are more men inside the building.

They want Peter dead.

The super-hero is amused they're still trying.

His visors scan for weaknesses in the armor.

He lands powerful blows against the sternum, hippocampus, clavicles, and ribcage of the HYDRA mercenaries, in no mood for wasting time on useless goons.

Peter lays eyes on Pierce's large, pristine wooden office doors.

He web zips over, landing right before the entrance.

Wasting no further time...

... he enters.

Pierce sits in his comfy leather chair on the far side of the room, a whiskey glass in hand.

He nods to Peter, hoisting the glass up in a toasting gesture. "Welcome back."

Peter's mouth is agape.

Iron Man is positioned, on his knees, in the center of the room - facing Peter.

Tony's suit isn't operational.

The power core is flickering dangerously.

Peter cannot see Tony's face through the metal mask.

Pierce clears his throat, taking another sip. "Are you ready to fight?"

xxx


	35. Apoptosis

_A Familiar Face_

"What's going on?"

"Peter..." the SHIELD Director raises his glass. "...This is the opening night of my little play. Don't worry, don't worry... you've already bought your ticket."

Peter was furious now, his temper on a hair-trigger. The smallest thing would have him flying into a rage, yelling, saliva spitting out with each jagged word. "T... _Tony!_?"

Tony didn't respond, or even move an inch. He remained plastered to the floor, statue-esque.

"I don't think he can hear you," Pierce shrugs. At first, Peter attempted to remain calm and swallow the anger. Unfortunately, it was incessant. Pierce felt empowered, visibly relishing in Peter's anguish. "So, let's talk business-"

Peter interrupts. "What did you do to him?!"

"Oh, Tony? He' _s fine,_ don't even worry about a thing. I just disabled that suit he's so fancy of."

Peter scoffs, enraged but cautious. "There's no way you could've-"

"Remember those sixty-four lines we discussed earlier?" Pierce takes another sip. Peter is acutely aware of Tony's direct wiring into SHIELD - it's the reason this entire ordeal is upon them. "Well, as you know I took notice and was able to discover the time machine. _And_ I was able to access hidden files within Avengers Tower. _And_ I was able to read some pretty _illuminating_ documentations."

 _This... is wrong._

"For starters," the Director continues, "I read one of Tony's little journal entries. It contained all of your personal info, Petey. Don't worry, don't worry - he kept it entirely to himself. Didn't tell a soul. He did, however, indirectly feed the information straight to me when I hacked his data. Isn't that just the tiniest bit ironic? I also made a personal note to look deep into the specs of his suits - to uncover every nook and cranny on how he operates each model of armour. And, well... now I know what really makes them _tick._ "

A painful groan emits from Tony's iron-clad mask. Still, however, the suit is reminiscent of concrete.

"You hacked his..."

Pierce nods. "Hacked his suit. Yes. You must have known I had some tricks up my sleeve, Petey. Honestly... you've already survived a timeline where all your happy little friends die. I obviously know my way around the Avengers."

Peter is dizzy. He feels closer to the floor than ever. "W-what do you..."

Pierce sets down his now empty glass, rising from the leather recliner. "Seems Tony here wanted to ensure he could maintain control at _all_ times. Guess you could say he felt responsible for the team... because he _also_ had documentations of each Avengers member, deeply hidden in his drives. Specifically... contingency plans. Courses of action to undertake if anyone went rogue. Or... if anyone challenged him." Pierce lifts his eyebrows, almost comically. "Tony's figured out the weaknesses of each Avenger, storing the info away so that only he can use it. However, upon hacking his files..."

Now Peter felt as if his lungs were slowly filling with water; as if there was no space for air. Inflating them felt like pushing up a lead weight on his chest. He sucked in the air as if it were treacle, yet Peter was standing healthily and without damage. If the birds around him could sing and fly, why couldn't he breathe? Why was it so _hard_?

His eyesight was blurry. Or perhaps the lenses were still misty.

Peter is out of breath, but now walking. With every movement, there's a wheeze like air escaping from a deflating balloon. Every step feels like walking in quicksand, his feet as heavy as bags of cement. Tonight, he may die. Tomorrow may not exist. And, to be honest, he doesn't really mind. At least he won't feel as though his lungs are drowning in air.

Pierce continues to monologue while trotting around the room, absolved in his own ignorance. Who knows what he's saying.

Tony is the complete opposite. Unwavering and silent, he remains encapsulated within the cocoon of his iron prison.

Peter's brain is numb. His emotions are frizzy.

 _What's going on..._

His brain continues to pulsate.

Anger continuously bubbles.

He notices Pierce, now staring Peter directly in the eyes...

... a smirk etched upon his features...

"Tony's arrogance has killed you all."

That was the breaking point of Peter's patience. At that moment he was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He reached out. He wanted to punch Pierce in the face...

... to decimate the symbol of HYDRA...

... and to kill the man who endangers his friends.

However, the attack was halted by Iron Man.

"It seems Mister Parker has lost his temper," the Director sighs. "Take him for some fresh air, would you Tony?"

The suit instantaneously grips Peter by the neck, wordless.

He can feel the sweat drench his skin, the throbbing of his own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in his ears, and the thumping of his heart against his chest. Peter's fingers are curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm. He can't hear his own rapid breathing, though the teenager can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs.

A sharp pain lanced through Peter's head and colorful spots flashed in his eyes.

The iron fingers begin to tighten.

Without even so much as a glancing at Peter, the suit rockets directly into the ceiling and propels thousands of meters into the freezing night sky.

This isn't Tony.

This is a suit being puppeteered.

Tony is completely helpless, subjected to watching from a front-row seat as his friend his beaten into a muddled pulp.

A flurry of abhorrent steel fists suddenly pummel Peter's face. The pain is intense, flourishing throughout his body.

Although trying to break free - even _with_ super-human strength - Peter's enclosed windpipe is far too damaging.

The vari-colored spots only increase in size and frequency.

Peter will die.

The cold voice of Alexandar Pierce exudes from Tony's suit, echoing and laced with nonchalance. " **The kid hasn't seen his Aunt May in a while. It's also past his curfew. She must be worried sick. Perhaps you should take him back home, Tony?** "

 _No no no no -_

The suit halts its downpour of fists but ensures Peter's throat is still blocked.

 _No no no no no no no -_

And then the suit turns, now rocketing towards Queens.

 _Nononononononononnonononononono-_

 _"ST-STAAUGHHP!"_

No reaction.

They'll enter Manhattan at any moment.

Aunt May cannot become involved with this. She's already suffered far, _far_ enough. Her life has been twisted and mutilated, and is now a deformed version of what it used to be.

Her sister - dead.

Her husband - dead.

Her nephew - on death's door.

 _"PIERRCHHHE! STAUGGHHHP!"_

The pleas are worthless.

Pierce only chuckles.

Queens is now in full view.

Peter can feel wet tears trickle from his bloodshot eyes.

 _"_ PIERCHE _! I'LL KILL Y-"_

The pupeteered suit releases its grip on Peter's neck, throwing him with inexplicable force.

For just an infinitesimal moment, Peter is overjoyed to breathe.

However, the air is soon kicked from his body like a mule as he collides with a wall, breaking through completely.

He coughs harshly, standing slowly to his feet. His legs barely feel attached to his body.

"Well," he coughs some more, mumbling to himself, "this... this kinda sucks. I'm not even joking anymore. T-this - holy shit - _augh..._ Damn. Alright, alright, alright... keep it together, Petey. It's just - _hnnf_ \- it's just Iron Man. Just a metal suit. Metal suits are basically half of your rogue's gallery. I... I got this..."

He stops mumbling upon looking around the room, taking in his surroundings.

" _No..._ "

This is his room.

Aunt May's house.

The desolation he felt was all-consuming. His mind became an icy wasteland, the wind howled in his soul and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart so tightly it almost stopped beating.

It was too late.

She was now involved, against Peter's wishes.

Slowly, a slight chuckle slips from his throat, billowing like dust into the air.

Peter felt emotionally bankrupt. The was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped his mind in swirling blackness.

In retrospect, Peter understands that he has been given more blessings than he feels worthy of. He feels love, joy and happiness so strongly it makes him tingle right down to his bones. Peter has known enough pain to fragment his soul into such tiny pieces that it took years to reassemble his mind.

This was different, however.

Peter was now hollow.

"Pierce... I'm going to kill you."

He turns.

The bedroom wall was now reminiscent of a car crash - decimated and guttering to view.

The Iron Man suit was hovering menacingly in the street, visible through the hole in Aunt May's home.

Her _home_.

"T-Tony... I'm really sorry..."

Peter raises his arm in a lightning-fast motion to shoot a biocable, though the suit retaliates even faster.

An electromagnetic pulse is released, almost knocking Peter back to the floor.

His webshooters were suddenly enveloped in electricity, cracking and screaming.

Pierce had obliterated them.

The electricity on Peter's body was more than just a slight tingle that ran underneath his skin. No, it was as though someone had attached a live wire to each of his nerves, and his body convulsed as the violent electrical current pulsed through him.

Tony couldn't smell the burning from behind the mask. However, he witnessed Peter's damage in its entirety - the teenager's hands and feet strained involuntarily, convulsing and oscillating.

Tony hoped beyond reason that Peter would just stay down - that the battle would conclude right in that moment.

However, he understood that the kid was far too prideful; too stubborn.

Peter simply rose to his feet once more, the red-and-blue suit now irrefutably torn and shredded.

He releases a war-cry, leaping from the bedroom before directly colliding with Tony's suit, clawing away at the feet-propellors with his fingers.

One pops, and both heroes subsequently fall from the air and onto the chilled suburban street below.

Pierce is controlling the suit, though he hardly receives time to move as Peter wails a flurry of fists directly into the helmet piece.

Now agitated, Pierce unleashes a hellacious slap into Peter's cheek that causes blood to pour from the inner walls of his mouth.

Combat continues - an exchange of attacks that deal an equal amount of damage to both parties.

" **Y-you might've noticed the new suit,** " Pierce's voice echoes, visibly strained as he attempts to order to suit to victory. " **Tony made this one specifically for you. It's faster, stronger, _better_ than most of the others! It can take one _hell_ of a beating... and I'm gonna use it to end your life.** "

Attacks continue to collide. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Peter's body as an intense fist collides with his chest. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Bruised and winded, with a leg in agony, he suddenly grabbed the foot of the suit and pulled it to the ground. Snow billowed around them. Peter brought a fist to the suit's face, abolishing the metal into a grotesquerie as he landed an incessant rain of knuckles onto his friend - his mentor.

" **This is a waste of both of our time. Honestly... why do we have to fight? I'm so _sick_ of fighting. You've already _lost,_ Peter. You need to understand that! To accept it! Even if you win this battle, I'll win the war. You're a child. I'm _begging you..._ just _stop the fighting_!"**

"Never. This is my responsibility."

The suit begins to shoot at Peter, who is forced to leap and maneuver himself across the snow-sheeted Manhatten street. Bullets collide with anything and everything - even Peter himself.

" **You're losing far too much blood, Peter. I don't want to kill a child, but you're kinda driving my hand. I'm gonna give you another chance to give up-** "

Pierce doesn't finish. Half of Peter's bedroom wall is suddenly thrown at the suit. Pierce views the incoming object and attempts to fly away, forgetting that his feet-propellors are damaged.

The wall completely encapsulates the suit. Pierce curses from underneath the rubble, rising from the dust in an armor that is now slowly but surely being destroyed.

Pieces of metal dangle from Tony's body like sinew. The suit is an abhorrent sight.

" **Good play, Peter,** " Pierce chuckles. **"...But now I have to teach you some manners."**

The suit raises its arm, and Peter is immediately aware of what is about to transpire.

" _NO!"_

A missile launches from the suit, traveling in slow motion toward Aunt May's home.

Peter possesses no webs to halt its progress.

He has no options.

He can only dodge the missile, watching in horror as it collides with the house.

And then...

...there was an enormous explosion. It was as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch its way out of the main complex. Windows shattered. Smoke and fire rushed out. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel, a deadly rainfall, showered down. Alarms - shrill and deafening- erupted. A huge bite had been taken out of the side and the roof of the building.

Fire licks around the house like it means to play, burning the grass. The heat so intense that all moisture is driven skybound. The walls are soon alight and the smell of burning cedar is blown clear over the suburb toward homes yet to evacuate.

Peter screams, wanting to leap into the house - wanting to save the one person he loves most in the world.

The suit, however, grasps onto Peter's body and refuses to release the encasement.

" **No, no, no, Peter. _Look. Watch._ This is a good lesson for you. This is an example of how your actions can produce some pretty crazy consequences."**

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down Peter's face. He feels the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child. He looks toward the sky, as if the light could soothe him. There are only black clouds.

" **Don't cry, Mister Parker. This is _all_ Tony's fault. If he had just given me the time machine, none of this would have happened. This whole ordeal is... just a part of life, you know. _Death_ is just a part of _life._**

And suddenly, from seemingly nowhere...

... Peter hears Tony's voice behind his ear.

He feels the perspiration of Tony's breath.

"I agree, Mister Pierce," Tony speaks, his voice low. "Death is just a part of life. I sincerely hope you enjoy it."

Suddenly, a flurry of gunshots enter Peter's eardrums.

However, their origin is not within the small Queens suburb.

The gunshots echoed from the suit's communication device - from the room where Pierce was controlling Tony's suit for the entire battle.

Peter hears another sound.

It was reminiscent of a large object dropping to the floor.

A body.

"...Miss Romanoff?" Tony speaks again.

...

...

...

...

"Alexander Pierce is dead, Tony. We've won."

 **xxx**

Several moments pass with Peter in complete silence.

Tony was standing in solitude, speaking to various other members of the Avengers.

He was congratulating them - exclaiming that the plan had worked.

Peter simply continued to watch Aunt May's house as it burned to the ground.

Tony finally ends his call, relinquishing a sigh. "She wasn't in there."

Peter turns, though he doesn't say a word.

Tony sighed again. "We evacuated her. And everyone in Queens, actually."

"...You knew this would happen...?"

"We did-"

" _You knew my family would be attacked?!_ "

Peter is seething. He stands to his feet, completely ready to finish his fight with Tony.

The older man simply shakes his head, choosing his words very carefully. "It was a necessary precaution."

"I don't - I don't understand any of this shit! You couldn't have planned-"

"... Couldn't have planned for my suit to be controlled? Well, I did plan it. It was expected. Pierce fell directly into the hole we wanted him to fall in."

Peter scoffs, pushing the billionaire aside before attempting to stride away. "You had _contingency_ _plans_ for each and every one of us! And Pierce had _full access to them!_ "

"Yeah. I know. That was an entire, gargantuan mistake on my part. But you're missing the bigger picture, Peter. When you told our team that Pierce kills us all in the future, I understood how immediately. I understood that my secret wires into SHIELD had probably been discovered and that Pierce had most likely found my contingency plans. I used _that_ as an _advantage_. Tonight's entire battle plan was built on that. I knew Pierce would control my suit, so I rolled with it. That gave time for Widow to sneak in and-"

"You're a monster."

Tony's eyes widen. "...Peter..."

Peter claps mockingly at the billionaire. "Yeah. Great job. Honestly, what a fantastic job, Mister Stark. You killed the bad guy. You must be so proud of yourself. _So_ proud, in fact, that you can't even comprehend how much damage you've caused to others." He points at the smoldering house. "My Aunt's _home_." He points to his own damaged body. "The pain I've gone through." He points across the bridge, in the direction of Avengers Tower. "How you've _used_ your friends like they're nothing but pawns."

Tony is stuttering, speechless.

Peter continues, not stopping the verbal assault for a second. "And I bet you think we'll all just forget what you've done - about the contingency plans against your own _friends_. Y-you... you..."

Tony walks slowly to the teenager. Once more, he relinquishes a long, feeble sigh.

He embraces Peter in a hug, enveloping him completely.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I'm gonna destroy the machine. I'm gonna destroy the contingency files. I'm gonna fix everything. I know I'm a horrible person...

...

...

...

... but I'm trying to fix that."

 **xxx**

* * *

 _A/N: Pierce is dead. With the battle won, the Avengers will fix all loose ends._

 _The forthcoming chapters will be much less action oriented. We now return to a much quieter portion of the Avengers' life, focusing on the characters, interactions and their shaky bond with a now cautious Peter Parker._

 _For now, their lives are in no danger._


	36. Paradox Meltdown

_A Familiar Face_

"You're not going to destroy it?"

Tony shakes his head, staring at the time machine. "We've worked too hard to just get rid of it."

Bruce sighs. "We were almost _killed_ because of it."

"True," Tony nods, stroking his developing goatee, "but imagine if we need it again, only to remember we destroyed it."

"I don't know, Tony... this - this isn't right."

"Which part?"

"How about we start with the lies we fed to the other Avengers?" Bruce looks at his friend with tired eyes. "You know damn well this has gone too far. _Way_ too far."

Tony shrugs, nonchalant. "If we've already gone _this_ far, why not go a little further? Trust me, Bruce, I'm just as cautious about the machine as you. But if we need it - for whatever purpose - it'll be there. A fallback option."

"You also lied to Peter," Bruce speaks lowly, dejected. "What happens if he finds out?"

"I lied to ensure he doesn't find out."

Bruce shakes his head slightly. "We threw him directly into the furnace. I feel sick about it."

Tony nods in agreement. "It was a mistake to bring him that deep into our work. But... the kiddo ended up saving us. We'd all be dead if he hadn't used the machine to warn everyone."

"T-Tony... he... Peter's probably seen... a lot of horrible sights... a lot of death."

For a moment both Tony and Bruce stand in silence, weighing the consequences that have arisen due to their actions.

Bruce exhales, rubbing his temple. "Steve said he hasn't contacted any member of the Avengers since the incident."

"It's only been a week. Just lay off the dude. Give him some time to figure those teenage hormones out. He'll be... fine. Yeah? Just fine."

"And what about the machine? Do we tell the others we're keeping it?"

"No."

Bruce was dumbfounded. His comment was so out of character, so far from what he knew of Tony, that Bruce just stared at him open-mouthed. His brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that he was shocked. He closed his mouth, then looked at his shoes before glancing back up to catch Tony's eye. "...Why?" was all he could say.

"Why _should_ they know?"

Bruce scoffs, cautious. "Because we almost got everyone _killed_. We've been discussing this for the past week and you _still_ don't understand the scale of what we've done. You're not even _trying_ to comprehend it!"

Tony stifles a small but prevalent smile. Bruce sounded exactly like Peter.

"I know what I'm doing," Tony concedes, "and I know that I'm a monster. But the machine stays alive, and it stays a secret."

"You're just digging a deeper _hole._ For the both of us! Do you remember what was found on Peter's phone? When he told Steve about the strange messages he was getting?"

"Of course I remember."

"Well?" Bruce looks at Tony with wide eyes. "You _gotta_ remember what they found in the messages. There was one - complete static for a minute and four seconds. _One minute. Four seconds._ I'm damn sure you can count, Tony. Sixty-four seconds. We didn't understand a damn thing about that message until Peter activated the time machine to jump onto this worldline. _Sixty-four seconds_. That's the exact number of wires you connected to SHIELD. And do you remember what was on the video file when it activated?"

Tony nods. "It was indecipherable noise. Not in English, Russian, German, Japanese, nor in any other recognizable language. According to Miss Maria Hill, there were screams throughout the entirety of the video. The shrieking could be phonetically transliterated into Japanese as "Fariya. Seta messo. Fariya. Tuse."

Bruce turns, unceremoniously yanking a pen from his coat breast pocket and subsequently scribbling on an otherwise lonely document. He finishes, hoisting the paper into the air so Tony has a full view.

「ファリィア。セタセパ）メッソ。ファリィア。トゥスェ.

Bruce clears his throat, sweating. He looks dead-to-the-world-tired. "Supposedly written in an untranslated language. One could entertain the possibility that they are written in the same language as that of God."

Silence envelops them once more.

Tony laughs. "Obviously that one wasn't from Pierce. Did we ever figure out what it meant?"

Bruce shakes his head. "Never."

Shrugging, Tony continues to sip on his whiskey in nonchalance.

"...Tony... are we defying God?"

The billionaire takes a moment to ponder this question. "... Is there a God to defy?"

Bruce places the paper down, exhaling.

After a simple shrug, the billionaire exits the laboratory - never glancing back.

 **xxx**

Gwen takes in his dishelleved appearance. Leaves and dirt and various other gunk adorn his unruly mess of dark chocolate hair. He looks tired and worn. Blood stained bandages plaster his forehead from some godforsaken battle. Cuts and bruises decorate his face. Mud and blood streak his tattered clothes. And she thinks.

He had never looked so beautiful, yet so terrible at the same time.

"You look like shit," she tells him.

"Shut up. Don't swear at me."

"It's true, though. Have the wounds even stopped bleeding?"

"Yeah. I - I think so... Maybe?"

"It's been a week."

Peter nods comically, in a mocking gesture. "Uh huh."

"Oh, shut up. I'm looking out for you."

Peter shrugs. "I have superhuman abilities. Bodily regeneration is one of them."

"You didn't tell me that until after I had to clean your Lizard wounds."

Peter stifles a small chuckle, reminiscing. "Chocolate house~"

Gwen smiles, though it quickly fades.

Her father enters her mind.

Peter was obviously hit with the same realization. "I'm sorry. I didn't - mean..."

Gwen simply shakes her head, ensuring her voice remains stable. "No. It's fine. It's okay now."

Nodding once more, Peter opens the door for her.

The date is December 24.

Christmas Eve.

Six days have passed since the battle for the Time Leap Machine.

Six days have passed since Aunt May lost her home.

Six days have passed since Peter last contacted any member of the Avengers.

Five days have passed since reconstruction began on Aunt May's home.

Four days have passed since Peter received a package, courtesy of Tony Stark. It remains unopened.

Four days have passed since Peter dumped his Spider-Man suit in the garbage. It was torn beyond recognition, anyway.

Three days have passed since Peter and Gwen agreed to create a new suit together. Nothing fancy. The same as Peter's first. The classic. No Stark gadgets - nothing connected to the Avengers. Just Peter. Just Spider-Man.

Two days have passed since he dreamt of Uncle Ben and Aunt May, before waking in a cold sweat.

One day has passed since he couldn't sleep at all.

Today, he joins Gwen Stacy in their usual cafe spot. It's quaint. Home-like. Enjoyable.

They sit in their usual seats.

They order their usual drinks.

It's quaint.

Home-like.

Enjoyable.

"Peter? _"_

He was dozing again.

Rubbing the sleep from his dry eyelids, Peter apologizes. "Haven't been sleeping too much."

"That's the norm for you, but this is bad. You look too pale. Like... too pale. Kinda throwing me off."

He chuckles sweetly. "What every guy wants to hear."

She rolls her eyes in an obviously joking gesture. "Suck it up."

Peter enjoys spending time with her. He supposes he should address their odd friendship -

\- but that's just it.

Friendship.

They are in no way forcing themselves to spend time with each other, nor do they see each other too often.

It's a simple friendship, and Peter is glad for it.

About a week remains before school resumes, though Peter is thoroughly in anticipation for it.

For once, he cannot wait to play some basketball with Flash or attend that 'super important' Science Apps. class Gwen always scolds him for skipping.

Suddenly allured by the scent of freshly baked Christmas cake coming from a neighboring bakery amidst the bustling streets of, Peter took his lingering gaze off of Gwen. Looking through the cafe windows, he sets his sights on the enormous Christmas tree adorned with glistening ornaments and glowing fairy lights draped around it.

"Nice, huh?" Gwen speaks softly, following Peter's gaze. "I've always loved Christmas."

He clears his throat, nodding. "Mm. It's a good time. I, uh - I used to have this family tradition with my parents. I don't remember too much about what we did, but I think it was cool. Never really continued it with Aunt May and Uncle Ben."

"Is she okay, by the way? You haven't told me much about what happened."

Peter sips on his beverage, realizing Gwen has been kept out of the loop. He decides to fill her in, though the time machine stays completely out of the conversation.

"Mister Stark had a hunch that the bad guy would attack my house. He evacuated the whole area just in case. We've been staying in this really ritzy hotel since the attack, free of charge."

Gwen's eyebrows raise. "How could Tony have known?"

"It's a pretty long story."

"You're saying your identity was found out?"

Nodding, Peter scratches his temple. "Yeah. But everything's good now."

Gwen rolls her eyes again, though this time the gesture is serious. "You have a mask for a reason," she whispers.

She's concerned.

Always has been, always will be.

Gwen's consideration is both a warmth and needle to his heart.

"Everything's a-okay."

"Speaking of masks," her voice remains low, a smile playing at her lips, "How about a new design for the suit?"

Apprehensively, Peter begins to speak. "I - uh -"

"No, no, no, trust me, trust me. We'll keep the same color scheme~ and maybe throw in some new web patterns~. It'll look _so_ much better than that trashy thing Tony gave you."

Ah. Peter understands.

Gwen easily noticed his distaste in discussing Tony from such a short conversation.

She had already figured Peter out and was trying to make him feel better.

He stifles a small smile. Gwen Stacy really is brilliant. "Alright, alright, alright~"

She has a look of victory proudly plastered on her face. "Good. Spider-Man is now a free agent. Who _needs_ the Avengers? And with a quick redesign, they'll be begging you to come back."

The conversation resumes for another hour or so.

Peter enjoys himself far too much.

As dusk approaches, they bade each other goodbye. Peter drops his skateboard to the ground, idly gliding toward Aunt May's new apartment.

 **xxx**

"Miss Felter."

Christina looks up.

Tony Stark is entering her laboratory.

"Good evening and a Merry Christmas, Mister Stark. Is there any reason you're here? I've told Peter over and over-"

"The internship offer still stands, though I know you won't accept it. But, uh - no, I'm here for something else."

"Look, Mister Stark," she sips on her coffee, "unless it's something _truly_ important, you're gonna have to be quick. I have Christmas plans."

The older man turns, looking at the horizon through a window.

As the evening sky faded away, the pink and orange hues were replaced with dark shades of blue, whilst the amber light of the street lamps spilled on the stone-paved streets. In turn, the elegantly decorated, wooden stalls slowly revealed their hidden wonders attracting long queues of bustling New York customers.

The festively designed stalls, illuminated with blinking Christmas lights, vibrant ornaments and brightly colored signs, were lined up along either side of the street and had varieties of delectable treats, jasmine-scented fragrances, skillfully hand-crafted greeting cards and unlimited choices of gifts to customers occupied for endless periods of time.

The warm smiles of the people behind the stalls as they tossed freshly roasted, golden brown chestnuts into paper cones or carefully poured creamy hot chocolate into mugs and added generous layers of whipped cream, was returned by the beaming grins of the children who were eagerly waiting to get their mug.

Tony stifles a smile. "You really can't hate this time of year, hey?"

Setting down a clipboard, Christina turns to face her guest. "What'd you need?"

"It's about the time machine lecture Mister Parker and I attended."

"Ah, the one where you tried to discredit my theory?"

"Precisely."

She smiles, albeit against her will. "It was a good experience - tearing down your opinions on time travel."

Tony shrugs, crossing his arms. "Actually, that's what I'm here about."

Her ears perk up. "Oh?"

He nods slightly. "I made one. And it works."

Her ears perk down. "Oh."

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "Don't shoot me down just like that. My claims are legitimate. I have backing from Professor Bruce Banner." He stops talking, instead handing Christina a document.

It was the blueprints and manuscripts for the Time Leap Machine.

She sighs. "You _cannot_ expect me to read this right now ... Christmas is..."

Her words eventually fizzle out. She's lost in thought, deeply contemplating the documentation.

"Good, huh? Wanna know the kicker?"

Christina looks up, skeptical but curious. "I-"

"It works."

She shakes her head, smiling. "I don't -"

Tony shrugs again. "You don't need to believe me. But Peter used it - _twice -_ and it worked. Our little Time Leap Machine actually worked. I just need to confirm a few things with you."

Still in a skeptical daze, Christina is unsure but allows herself to listen.

Tony then delves into the inner-workings of the Machine, telling her everything he told Peter.

About the black hole data.

About the memory data.

About the temporal lobe data compression.

"Y- _you_ stole it! You stole our compressor-"

"I did. Sorry. Needed it." Tony smiles.

"You can't just _steal_ , Mister Stark-"

"I can bring it back. Or build another one for you or something. Don't worry about a thing. But I needed it to make the bloody machine run."

She exhales, rubbing her temple. "...And you're saying it ran? That Peter... what, he was shoved into the past?"

Tony points at her. "Bingo."

"So why do you need me if you already know it works?"

"Well, Miss Felter... you're a genius. Extremely smart. _Freakishly_ smart, just like yours truly. There's a lot of things Professor Banner and I don't truly understand about the time traveling aspect yet, and we can't contact Peter right now to confirm any details."

"So you want me to fill in the blanks?"

Tony inclines his head. "Yeah."

He then explains the situation -

\- everything about the Avengers being killed, and about how Peter altered the world-lines to save them.

Of course, he would never disclose Peter's identity.

Tony simply used the excuse that Peter was interning for him at the time, and became muddled into the situation against his will.

Christina ponders this for a moment, then relates back to Tony's documentation. "Your chronology protection conjecture holds, but I think it's slightly different. That conjecture denies the possibility of time travel from quantum theory because of the danger of disrupting the law of cause and effect. But in the case of time leaping, no time paradoxes occur in the first place."

Agreeing, Tony says, "So two of Peter can't exist at the same time. He can't bring anything with him to the past, either. The only change is the memories stored in his temporal lobe. At the very least, time-leaping can't cause a Grandfather Paradox."

"But this doesn't make sense." She thinks hard for a moment. "You can't control which possibilities you observe, so I don't know if the many-worlds interpretation holds or not. It should be unreasonable to expect to arrive at the possibility where the Avengers didn't die."

Tony points at her again. " _Bingo_. But Petey did it anyway. He denied the will of the world. It's as if the universe itself was censoring him, correcting any changes he tried to make."

Christina sets down her coffee before taking out a pen from her coat-pocket.

She begins to write down on a blank piece of paper.

"Perhaps the cause of the Avenger's death wasn't just being killed by Pierce's soldiers, but something more macro. Maybe 'because we made a time machine', or possibly 'because SHIELD found out we hacked them'. As a result, you died. If you think like that, cause and effect aren't warped."

Tony exhales, shaking his head. "This time travel shit is confusing."

"What I'm saying is... just because you avoided death for a moment... doesn't mean you freed yourself from the universe's will. The law of cause and effect is absolute. Deny that, and you deny all of physics. So, there must be a cause for the Avenger's certain death. Yes, you _did_ stop Pierce, but if the Avengers were fated to die _because_ they built the machine... the possibility still stands that they _can_ die because the machine exists."

Tony sighs. "You're saying I have to destroy it to absolutely _ensure_ we remain living? We could all die ten years down the line because I didn't destroy it?"

"I don't know. It's not like I have a full understanding of its theory and structure. You can do consecutive leaps. As long as the Time Leap Machine exists, that is. For example, if the Time Leap Machine doesn't break for ten years, then you could go back those ten years. By simple calculation, it would take 1825 time leaps, so there's quite a big risk, but it's theoretically possible. If something _does_ arise in those ten years, you could leap back to destroy the machine and place yourself on the safer worldline."

"So what's the problem? I can keep the machine and leap back if anything happens."

She exhales. "A big one. Didn't I say so? As long as the Time Leap Machine exists, it is simple cause and effect that you will die."

"But-"

"You can't leap _before_ the machine was created because you need the machine itself to leap."

Tony falls into a chair, heart pounding. "Well, damn."

He laughs inwardly. This whole situation is beyond his comprehension.

Since he built the machine, it is entirely possible the Avengers are fated to die regardless of what actions are made.

If anything happens in the future, Tony can leap back in time to save everyone. But the will of the universe still dictates that they will die, as the machine still exists.

Destroying the machine is the only way out here.

"You have to destroy it," Christina says simply.

Tony nods - a feeble gesture. "I'm gonna go take a nap."

Rising to his feet, the older man paces to the exit.

"Oh, Miss Felter-" he turns, "The internship offer still stands, y'know."

He smiles sincerely, big and proud, before leaving the room.

 **xxx**


	37. Curettage

_A Familiar Face_

"SHIELD's being dismantled?" Steve Rogers strokes his developing beard.

He had intended to shave days ago.

Free time hasn't been a commodity of late.

"Of course," a man speaks. He is plastered on a large transparent screen, face covered in deliberate shadow.

Steve doesn't know the name of this individual, nor does he really care. It's a SHIELD benefactor, that much is certain. Possibly a CFO.

Who knows.

Who cares.

"Can't say I'm surprised," is Steve's simple, yet honest, response.

"After recent events, you understand why this is the best course of action. Don't you, Mister Rogers?"

Steve nods. "Yeah... It was expected. You did allow HYDRA to burrow itself into your little organization for a few decades."

"...That tone isn't welcome. The time for pointing fingers has long passed. Refrain from speaking-"

"Don't reprimand me. You're at fault. There's no discussion here. And instead of admitting to your mistakes, you turn and try to cover everything up. Typical." Steve doesn't really care about his social standing at this point.

If SHIELD is no more, these people deserve the attitude they're receiving.

Steve continues, irritated. "Create a social catastrophe and place the blame on everyone but yourselves? That's - that's just wrong. I won't stand for that. You're all pathetic."

The screen doesn't respond for a moment.

Suddenly, several others appear.

Steve simply sighs.

A female voice responds. "If Fury had noticed any intrusion earlier, this HYDRA attack would never have-"

Steve interjects. "Fury is dead."

"Killed by the very force he should have noticed years prior. While it's true that HYDRA was hidden exceptionally well, Fury should have foreseen such a clear attack and-"

Steve shakes his head, slowly. "Fury is dead."

Several other voices, all seeping from invisible faces, fill the air. They attack Steve all at once, anger hardly hidden.

"And what about you, Mister Rodgers? Why did you not see the HYDRA threat earlier?"

"If you are an Avenger, how could you let the enemy easily attack-"

"Fury's death was warranted because he-"

"HYDRA will fall with SHIELD-"

"-we have other measures of defense. SHIELD was just one. We can destroy it and replace it with a better-"

"Are you aware of the lengths we went to secure-"

"-perhaps the Avenger Initiative should be scrapped as well-"

Steve's ear twitches. "...I'm sorry?"

The female voice repeats herself, evidently too lazy to hide her irritation. "I simply stated that the Avengers Initiative Program is, at present, performing under standard. Your team has caused far too much destruction already, and to add this HYDRA debacle on top of everything else... well..."

A scoff escapes Steve. "Well? Well, what? The destruction you're referring to was necessary to defeat a threat - to complete our _mission_. Imagine if we hadn't stopped the Chitauri? Or HYDRA? You people - you make me sick. Stop pushing your failures onto us."

Each screen falls silent.

After a hesitant moment, all disappear aside from the original male.

He clears his throat and continues in a falsely caring tone. "We apologize for any unprofessional conduct you may have just experienced, Mister Rodgers."

"Shove it right up your ass."

The Avenger turns to leave, his back to the projection who hurriedly exclaims, "This - this isn't something you can just dismiss, sir! Mister - hey - Mister Rogers! You need-"

The door closes behind Steve, who exhales a sigh.

Now walking with no destination in particular, the older man finds himself in the Avengers common-room.

Clint is the only present team member. "How you feeling, bud?" he asks casually, cradling a beer.

Steve releases a small but reassuring chuckle. "Never better," he shakes his head.

"You look like shit, man. Have you been sleeping?" Clint tosses an icy beverage which lands directly in the hands of the older Avenger. The archer didn't even have to look at where he was throwing.

Steve eyes the beer. "You know I don't drink." He uncaps it anyway, taking a sip. "I've been sleeping fine. As fine as I can, I guess. I dunno."

"Don't blame you. I'm tired too," Clint smiles cheekily. "Been a long week at work."

"Don't even get me started," Steve jokingly sighs, cruising his palm across the nape of his neck. "Do you know where Tony is?"

"Stark? Nah. He doesn't pop up in the common-room as much as he used to. I see him coming to and fro the workshop, but that's only once in a while."

Steve simply nods, in contemplation. "How come you're up here, by the way? Not lonely?"

Clint laughs. "I've been looking over reports for a solid five hours. Can't head home until I finish 'em. Plus..." he eyes the glass-plane wall that overlooks New York in its entirety. Tony ensured it was repaired after his scuffle with Steve before the SHIELD raid. "...the view is nice. Calming."

"I think a calming view is just what I need after this week, to be perfectly honest."

"Plus, it's almost Christmas!" Clint faces Steve, eyes lit with glee. "The one day of the year where I don't have to work - _at all_."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't think there'll be a SHIELD to keep us employed after all the HYRDA crap."

Clint nods. "I heard. The higher-ups are thinking of scrapping the whole organization. I mean, they _do_ have others but SHIELD is important. It gave people... like..."

Steve faces Clint. "Hope."

Clint nods. "Yeah, man. Hope." The archer cradles another beer from the fridge. "Let's not discuss work. It's Christmas Eve. Shouldn't you be, like, out swooning some festive women? There's plenty in New York."

Rising to his feet, Steve shakes his head. "I left the love scene behind decades ago. Well... it hardly started before it was stopped."

"Because of the whole ice thing?"

"Because of the whole ice thing, yeah."

"...You left a lady behind?"

"I did."

Clint clasps his shoulder. "Man, I'm sorry. Never even knew. That... that really sucks."

Steve shrugs. "It was necessary."

"Alright, no - you know what? Everything's gloomy lately. _Everything._ We need a pick-me-up."

Steve eyes his beer. "I'm already holding one?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no - I have an idea," he faces the veteran. "Bowling."

Still caressing his beard, Steve eyes the archer. "Bowling. You think you can beat me one-on-one in a fair game of bowling?"

"It's not a fair game. You're jacked up on super-soldier steroids and an unprecedented workout ethic. However-" Clint motions to his bow which lay idle on the kitchen counter. "- I'm quite the shot."

At Clint's request, they head down to the local alley to play a single game.

The single-game quickly turns into two games.

Two games turn to several.

Before long, the Avenging pair ask to stay overnight.

With a quick thanks to the manager, they continue their contest.

 **xxx**

"Peter."

Peter turns to Gwen, eyes droopy. "Mnyeah?"

She looks at him with a smile. "It's done~~~"

The new suit.

Both Peter and Gwen had been awake for well over twenty consecutive hours.

The conceptualization and creation of a new Spider-Man suit had been their main priority.

And now, it was finally completed.

The suit was generally the same as his previous one, but with a few slight modifications.

The once vibrant blue on the original costume was now replaced with a sleek black, though the red remained in place. The design of the spider-symbol on the back was changed, and the web design on the mask (mainly around the nose) had been somewhat altered. His lenses were now made entirely of refined glass, with Tony's HUD still in-built with the optics.

"I gotta say, it's different but..." Gwen ponders her words for a moment, eyeing the suit over. "...I like it."

"It'll do. Just playing around with ideas. Nothing's set in stone."

"I like it."

"I like it too."

Gwen eyes her watch. "It's _very_ early."

"In hindsight, I probably could've finished my investigative major if we didn't spend the whole day on this."

Gwen tuts her usual tut. "I finished that ages ago. Knew you wouldn't even look at the notes I sent."

"You know me so well, Gwendolyn Stacy."

She leaves after another hour or so.

Peter's room smells faintly of sweet perfume.

Smiling, he adorns the new suit.

It feels sensational.

Grabbing his police radio-transmitter, Spider-Man prepares for another night.

"What have you got for me tonight, New York..."

After a moment, the radio frequency picks up a conversation. The female voice speaks sternly, "- _have a unit responding to a silent alarm at Five West 66th Street. Another penthouse break-in-"_

 _Bingo_.

He arrives at the roof in no time.

Ripping a metallic gate from its hinges, Peter enters the ventilation shaft.

However, the situation feels eerily _off._

He continues to crawl, deeper and deeper into the building's intestines.

After several moments, the exit finally presents itself.

He leaves the shaft, falling toward the ground -

\- and landing directly into a pile of already dead bodies.

 **xxx**

A figure lies on the floor.

A teenager.

Officers tape off the area.

The blue and red lights are little more than smudgy illuminations in the slanting rain. But beneath their glow is the white bodywork of a police car. It's yellow-white headlights spotlight the dense hedgerow to the side of the lane where the tail-lights sit unusually high off the ground and tipping upwards into the night sky.

A policeman sees a woman enter the crime-scene, notebook in hand.

"Easy, Officer Cooper."

She spares a glance at the policeman before averting her attention to the body.

"We're in the middle of Central Park. There are no tall buildings around. If he's a jumper, where'd he jump _from?"_

"The arch," is the man's simple reply.

"Which is always brightly lit," Cooper responds. "And _no_ witnesses saw him climb up."

Shrugging, the policeman speaks gruffly and unconcerned. "We'll canvass the neighborhood. Something will come up."

Cooper shakes her head. "We're twelve yards away from the arch. The world record for long jump is under thirty feet. Does the kid look like an Olympic athlete to you?"

The male officer sighs. "You trying to make me look stupid? In front of my men? Miss Cooper, I-"

Officer Cooper cuts him off. "There's something wrong about this, Chief. This is the fifth body of its kind in a _month."_

Another officer interjects into the conversation, her voice stern. "Chief. We're getting a call from Uptown. You'll want to hear this. We have a unit responding to a silent alarm at Five West 66th Street. Another penthouse break-in."

The Chief diverts his attention away from Officer Cooper, signaling the end of their conversation. "Tell 'em we're en route. Anything on thermal?"

"...They can confirm. Footprints that crawled up the side of the building wall. Made a forced entry. Going by the prints, the burglar is humanoid."

 **xxx**

The entire floor is suddenly lit with blindingly bright-white light.

Peter turns.

He's been caught out.

However, what he sees takes him completely aback.

It's the police - that much is certain.

However, they appear to have also undergone a wardrobe upgrade.

Around half-a-dozen officers are armored in mechanical power suits, adorned with a white and blue color scheme.

They look advanced.

Powerful.

"What the heck..."

Suddenly, Peter remembers hearing about this on the news.

After the SHIELD incident at the Triskelion, the general public was scared.

Frightened.

Terrified.

And most importantly - vulnerable.

Tony Stark must have realized this, because he quickly launched a campaign with the one purpose of upgrading the police force in New York.

Supervillains could rip straight through simple cops.

To combat this, Tony funneled his money and time into creating weaponized suits for the police.

Obviously, there were _nowhere_ near the complexity and power of his own Iron Man armours.

However, they could definitely get the job done.

This was most likely Tony's way of easing his own conscience, if only by a little.

Peter almost scoffs to himself.

 ** _"FREEZE!"_**

Instead, Peter sighs. He raises his hands into the air.

"I can explain. This is _not_ what this looks like!"

There are dead bodies beneath Spider-Man's feet.

This situation could end horribly, at any moment.

" **CHIEF! IT'S _SPIDER-MAN!_ "**

"Yep. That's me. Licensed _Avenger."_

This was not a good situation.

None of this made sense.

" **HE'S - HE'S STANDING OVER A DEAD BODY!"**

Was this _set up?_

"My hands. In the air. My hands are in the air. Your friendly neighborhood, law-abiding Spider-"

" **CHIEF! WHAT DO WE DO?!"**

It was hardly a question that required an answer.

The suits suddenly begin to open fire, unleashing an exorbitant amount of ammunition in Peter's general direction.

Twisting and turning in the air, Peter curses to himself. "Didn't need my spider-sense to see that coming..."

He lands on the back of a suit with unprecedented fluidity.

The main circuitry is covered by a powerful steel barrier.

Looks heavily fortified.

However, Peter raises his hand -

\- and a small claw forms at the tip of each finger.

His hand slices through the steel like butter, instantly creating a suit-meltdown.

" **WHAT - WHAT'RE YOU DOING-"**

"What's it look like? I'm _voiding_ your warranty."

Peter, rather admittedly, does not like to fight with New York's finest.

However, these are Tony-made suits.

And, as such, Peter knows his way around them.

For example, the bombs currently being launched at Spidey have a specific explosive yield.

Peter estimates that four should be just enough to knock out the suit's hydraulics without harming the officer inside.

Putting this theory into practice, Peter smiles at his own supported hypothesis.

Another suit crumbles to its knees.

One remains.

" **I GOT YOU-"**

"A gift? You shouldn't have."

The arm of the mechanized power suit launches forward several meters, reminiscent of a deadly stilt.

Tony _really_ gave them his scraps.

Laughable.

A single punch is enough to break the arm clean off.

"All right. We done here?" Peter isn't even taking a defensive stance at this point. He watches as Tony's cheap suits flail around. "Now what say we all take a deep breath, count to ten, and _talk_ to each other like civilized-"

The doors behind Peter burst open. Several dozen SWAT officers enter, half of them adorning suits of power-armor.

"Hold it right there, Spider-Man! Zachary Pratchett, Chief of Police." He raises his gun. "Explain yourself. You're in a world of trouble."

"For what? Not getting _shot_?"

Peter sighs, quickly reaching into his belt and pulling out -

"Voila!" It's his Avenger licence. Tony said to never show it to the public. In all honesty, it's probably not even an official one. "Spider-Man: Avenger. Deputized by Captain America and everything. See? We're on the same team."

The Chief lowers his firearm but hardly seems impressed. "You're not on my team. This is an NYPD crime scene, and you contaminated it! This _hurt_ our investigation! _You_ have hurt the investigation!"

Peter scoffs this time. " _What?_ I wasn't the one punching down walls and chucking bombs like we're inside a firing range. But... look, I'm sorry about how this went down. Really am. I have no idea what investigation is going-"

"Keep it that way, Spider-Man. Now _GET OUT_! And _stay away_ from this investigation or so help me, I will _shoot_ you and myself!"

"Jeez, man. You sure I can't help or anything? If you told me about what was going on I could-"

Several of the SWAT officers take handcuffs from their belts.

Peter continues. "Alright, alright. I caught the visual hint. I'll take... my leave."

With the shot of a biocable, Spider-Man escapes into New York's icy night sky.

As he swings closer to Aunt May's new apartment, Peter finds himself ruminating on the night.

Three things were certain.

One - Peter's new suit was amazing.

The retractable hand talons acted as an unbreakable sword against an army of wheat.

Peter was glad he experimented with new ideas.

He was already eager to create even further utilities.

Two - the robbery was a set-up to lure Spider-Man onto the crime scene.

Why?

Who knows at this point in time.

Three - the police are investigating something.

However, they're bad at their job and will never realistically solve the case on their lonesome.

Should Peter intervene to help?

Probably.

However, he notices a slight rip in his brand new attire.

"A-are you - kidding - what - _no!"_

 **xxx**


	38. Quietus

_A Familiar Face_

Peter finds his way back to Aunt May's apartment. Checking his watch, he notes that it's now Christmas.

May had fallen asleep by ten, so there was no need to worry about her.

With one final _thwip,_ Peter lands on the ritzy hotel complex roof...

... and lays eyes on Nick Fury.

"Y-you-"

"Don't freak out," the Director places his hands behind his back, voice calm and unperturbed. "We have some items to discuss."

" _D-dude,_ you - can't be - here - _you can't be here_!"

Fury raises an eyebrow. "Because I should be dead?"

"Because - well, _y-yes -_ but - but this is my _house_! My _life_! You can't just - just show up here without-"

"I know this is sudden. I know. But there was no other way to have this meeting."

Fury looks abhorrent. There's a scar that lay fresh and new against the dark complexion of his forehead. Its pink shininess was shocking.

It was a wide, sunken cicatrice.

His skin was simply grey. Fury's nose was bloodied and a new shape entirely, while his head was lumpy and mis-shaped.

On his hands are great purple welts that will only deepen over the next few weeks. Against his ghostly skin, they are truly grotesque.

Peter exhales a truly deep-rooted sigh, hands on hips as he looks to the sky in disbelief. "I can't believe you're just showing up at my house. I do _not_ need this right now."

Fury furrows both brows. "You have no damn idea what you do and do not need. I, however, do _not_ need to hear your whiny bullshit. I need to talk to you about-"

"I thought you were dead. Miss Hill - she said you were killed in broad daylight on the streets."

Nick simply shrugs. "The bastards tried. Got damn close, too. I escaped, but it didn't matter. Alexandar Pierce was behind the whole thing. Made it look like I had died to take my spot on top of the ladder. This is the man who declined a Nobel Peace Prize. He said peace wasn't an achievement, but a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues."

Peter is astonished. "And - what - you just _laid low_? You didn't tell anyone that you survived? You watched as this whole - this whole situation with HYDRA and the Avengers went down?"

"Yeah."

"Does - does anyone else know?"

Fury shrugs again. "Rogers. He found out recently. However, in the event that anyone asks him about my current state, the Captain is to say that I'm dead. Also, Romanoff appeared in a Congressional hearing at Capitol Hill with some high ranking officials to discuss who was responsible for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s downfall. She conceded that I'm dead. To the world, I'm six feet under."

"Why are you _here,_ though?" Peter almost grumbled, enraged that his secret identity is quickly losing its secrecy.

"This is the last time you and I will ever speak. Actually, it's the last time we will ever see each other. After this, I'm gone. Forever. So, I need to have one last conversation with the Amazing Spider-Man boy."

"Alright, alright - okay - fine. But _please_ be quieter. My Aunt's asleep."

Fury nods. "Let's start with the Avengers."

"What about them?"

"You no longer want to be apart of the Initiative."

Peter is taken aback. "How do you even know that?"

"Boy, are you hearing yourself right now? I know every single damn thing about you. I figured out you were Peter Parker, some dopey kid from Midtown High, minutes after the issue of Spider-Man was raised."

Peter isn't overly surprised by this. "Pierce said you told no one."

Fury simply nods. "There was no reason to let your identity slip as long as you kept in line. And, for the most part, you managed to."

"Thanks," Peter speaks blankly.

Fury continues, "Look, I'll keep this short and sweet. _Stick_ with the Avengers. _Do not_ remove yourself. You're needed over there, and you can be damn sure they'll help on your side too."

Peter exhales again. "I... I don't want this. The things I've seen over the past few months-"

"Bullshit. Everybody's seen crap they wish they hadn't. You're supposed to deal with it, accept it, and move on."

"Some people can't. I've seen the Avengers die. I've - I had to live through all of that!"

Fury mocks Peter with a dismissive chuckle. "Cute."

Peter's anger palpitates. "Hey, I didn't ask for you to show up out of the blue! At my _house,_ of all places! Are you stupid? I don't need this!"

He pushes past the ex-SHIELD-Director, in no mood for civil conversation.

"Your loved ones are gonna die."

Peter stops walking. "What?"

Fury lights a cigarette, staring at the moon. "I got a bad feeling about the future. I don't know if it's HYDRA or SHIELD or Asgard or whatever, but my stomach isn't in a good place. Right now, I'm almost one-hundred percent certain your bond the Avengers is a necessity." He faces Peter, staring him dead in the eyes. "And you damn well better trust my stomach, kid. Hardly ever lies."

It's Peter turn to scoff. "Yeah. Thanks. Sure." Nodding, mostly to himself, Peter continues on his path back inside the apartment complex.

Dropping the cigarette to the ground, Fury calls out one last time. "Go back to Rogers. Or Clint. Anyone. It doesn't matter... because if you don't...

... you'll regret it."

 **xxx**

Weeks pass.

School resumes.

Contact with Avengers is still severed.

They've stopped attempting to call Peter on his burner phone.

Tony's package still remains unopened in his closet.

And on this cold January morning, one particular Midtown High student sleeps through his alarm clock and misses homeroom.

And, as if Peter's morning couldn't get off to a rougher start, a new gaggle of Z-list criminals emerge from New York's finest array of citizens to break a few laws.

Five individuals - all dressed in especially cheap, laughable villain attires - are rollerblading through the street.

" _Twice as sweet as money earned, twice as sweet as money earned,_ " the presumable leader whispers under his breath. "All right, guys. _Let loose!"_

The rollerbladers grab tazers from their belts.

Suddenly, they begin to rip the purses and bags from anyone they skate past, electrocuting anything and everything in their wake.

" _Twice as sweet as money earned, twice as sweet as money ea- nnght!"_

The leader suddenly collides with an entire wall of sticky, unescapable bio-web.

"I _cannot_ believe I had to get out of the line at Taco Bell... for _this?!"_ Peter is legitimately mad.

He was extremely hungry.

And had been standing in line for at least twenty minutes.

While taking out the goons with ease, Peter ensures his mild irritation is known. "I mean-" his fist forcefully connects with one's abdomen, "your outfits don't even match!" Several webs are shot. "Seriously, how hard is it to get outfits that at least match?"

He dodges a tazor before webbing two criminals to a wall. "But for real, you guys should be completely ashamed with showing yourselves in public like this. Honestly, I'm embarrassed to even be seen taking you all out."

All five criminals are webbed to one object or another, though Peter doesn't let up his verbal assault. "You _are_ aware I fight literal Lizard-people? Big ones? _And_ I'm basically an Avenger! I'm A-list, baby. A merchandising empire waiting to happen... and you?" He sits beside the leader, who is stuck against Peter's wall of webbing. "You can't even come up with a coherent fashion statement for your posse. Not saying you have to put on tights like me or anything, but..."

He checks his threadbare watch.

"Annnndddddddd I'm late for class. Again. Well, I was always late, but-"

 **xxx**

Midtown High.

Peter lands on the roof.

It's truly amazing how many roofs Spider-Man is forced to land on in one day.

He begins to strip, taking civilian clothes out from his backpack.

"Cold cold cold cold cold _cold cold_ ~"

Now running through the corridors, he hears the distant lecture of his _Science Apps_ Professor well under-way.

Gwen's voice rushes through his head - ' _the important subject.'_

Peter enters the classroom.

His hair is messy and disheveled.

His clothing is wrinkled and unwashed.

His teacher stops the lecture. "Would the esteemed Mister Parker like to share with us what could possibly have caused his tardiness to this class that I worked so hard to prepare?"

The lie quickly escapes Peter's mouth. "Sorry. Uh - overslept." He nods to himself awkwardly. That excuse has been utilized far too frequently of late.

The professor continues. "We were discussing moles, Mister Parker. Listen closely - the amount of substance of a system which contains as many elementary entities as there are atoms in 0.012 kilograms of carbon-12. When the mole is used, the elementary entities must be specified. The number of atoms in twelve grams of carbon-12 is around 6.02 x 10 to the power of 23. And this value is known as...?"

Peter looks at the board, in thought. "Avogadro's number."

"And can you tell me how many moles of atoms are in one mole of methane?"

This actually makes Peter think. "Uh... one carbon... and four hydrogens?"

Nodding, the Professor looks impressed.

But also irritable.

"Stop being late."

Twenty minutes later and Peter is at his locker, grabbing lunch.

Gwen sneaks up behind him. "Tazor-wielding rollerbladers? Really, Pete?"

"Stop looking into my business."

"I cannot believe you were late to that class for the fifteenth time because of tazor-wielding rollerbladers."

Peter concedes, "I know, I know. They also interrupted my purchasing of a delicious Taco Bell taco. And how does news of Spider-Man even travel _that_ fast?"

Gwen looks Peter in the eyes. "He's hot stuff. Especially after everyone saw him fighting alongside the Avengers."

Peter nods, averting his attention back to his locker. "Yeah, that really put a spotlight on Spidey. You would _not_ believe how many fake photos are sent into the Bugle. They look _nothing near_ legitimate, but Jameson doesn't even care. He just wants to see Spider-Man with his hand in a cookie jar."

"You haven't met up with any of the other Avenger members for a few weeks. Is everything - I dunno - okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, don't worry about it. Everything's a-okay."

"It's not, is it?"

Peter stammers slightly. "W-well..."

Nick Fury's foreboding words keep entering his head.

They echo incessantly, never letting Peter's worry subside.

Gwen knows something isn't right. "Look... I have no idea what happened on the night you attacked SHIELD. You still won't tell me, and that's completely fine, but... Peter, maybe you _should_ try talking to them again."

He looks at her in disbelief, though is listening to every word.

Even Gwen believes he should return to the Avengers.

Maybe this means something.

Maybe...

Maybe Peter _has_ been acting irrationally.

Maybe...

Maybe...

The day continues as usual.

Classes conclude.

Peter bids Gwen goodbye.

He then texts Aunt May, saying he'll be late for dinner.

Peter is swinging, for the first time in an entire month, to Avengers tower.

Winter continues to rage on, even through January.

In the blizzard there was no way to know which direction to go - the usual landmarks were hidden behind the white that swirled so densely. Even the Empire State Building in front of him was little more than a crude outline mostly erased by the storm. The soft ice crystals Peter would have found so bewitching to see on his window found their way into his jacket in every possible way.

He misses Tony's suit-heating function.

However, Peter adorned his mother's scarf around his chilled neck.

The scarf had been such a simple gift and at the time that is all it was - a scarf. It probably cost just a few dollars. It wasn't anything fancy - just a rectangle of yellow in cheap yarn. Even the knit was too perfect to be hand-made. It had been churned out of a machine with a thousand just like it.

But it was a gift from his mother.

And it always keeps Peter warm in Winter's harsh chill.

At that moment, Avenger's Tower slowly comes into view.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Peter's heart begins to palpitate.

He was, admittedly, beyond nervous.

What would he even say?

He had disappeared, completely off the radar, for a month.

Could he just walk in and expect everything to be fine?

No.

Of course not.

The thought of that alone was ludicrous.

Peter will enter the building and explain himself. Simple as that. After understanding his anger and subsequent anxieties, the other members would easily sympathize with everything that was going on.

They were adults, after all. They would understand.

The stress they placed on Peter - on a _teenager_ \- was just too much.

Right?

He clears his mind. It's flowing incessantly, and helping absolutely nobody.

Peter clears his throat, instigating a small pep talk with himself. "Okay, okay, okay. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay. Pete. Alright, man. Easy. You got this."

Dropping on the helicopter landing pad, Peter looks around.

The place looks deserted.

He walks, very suspiciously, across the walkway leading to the common-room interior.

He enters.

"... _Peter_?"

It was Tony Stark's voice, reverberating across the stainless walls.

 **xxx**


	39. Grief

_A Familiar Face_

"...Tony."

Pain is invisible, subjective, and open dispute unless it is one's own.

However, Peter cannot deny that Tony Stark has never looked as worse for wear as he does at this moment in time.

His left eye is swollen. There's absolutely no way he can see out of it, and he won't for a long while. His face still bears congealed blood and his clothes are an utter mess.

Their fight was abhorrent, so the injuries should be expected. But Peter has long since healed, bearing only faint marks that can barely pass as scars.

He forgets that Tony is simply a human.

"Been a while," the older man jokes faintly, setting down a glass of what appears to be water.

"No alcohol?"

Shaking his head, Tony smiles ever so slightly. "Staying off the booze." The last three words of the sentence drop to a low grumble.

Peter exhales.

There are an infinite number of things he wishes to say to the man before him.

It's been so long since they last spoke. Peter remembers their argument only meters away from Aunt May's obliterated home with crystalline detail.

And yet Peter struggles to break the unspoken barrier of tension between them at this moment.

"I owe you an apology. I owe every single Avenger an apology, actually." His voice is cracked and raw, coarse like fragmented rock, moving and grinding against each other.

The words spewing from Peter's mouth were simple.

Were his thoughts visible they would be an inverse explosion of crazy chaotic turns and twists of light all coming together to just one idea - to just one word:

" _Sorry."_

Though Peter's thoughts spin in a way that appear without design or logic, they always dance their way back to an apology. He does not wish to damage the very people he holds dearest.

He just wants forgiveness.

It appears as though Tony is considering this.

His facial expression is cadaver-like, not just sagged but lacking its usual liveliness, as if he had left his spirit snuggling under the duvet that morning. His eyelids droop and there iw a slight lolling to his head, drunk with fatigue after a sleepless night, no doubt.

"There's not a damn thing you need to apologize for, Peter. We get it," Tony suddenly takes a stride forward, stopping just short of Peter's face as their eyes pierce into one another. He visibly chooses his words before continuing. "Shit happened. Everything fell way out of our hands. But _trust_ me, Peter - _trust me_. I've taken the blame. I've taken it right to the heart. I regret ever bringing you into the things Bruce and I did."

Peter nods, his voice stiff. "It was a mistake, though. I overreacted-"

Tony's arms launch into the air, frantic and startling. " _No. No._ A - a _mistake_ is something accidental. You don't _mean_ to make a mistake! I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and - and I knew a single screw up could throw everyone into danger. But - but I still _went_ _through_ with all the - the-"

It was during Tony's enraged stupor that Peter realized something was wrong.

He shoots a quick glance at the beverage Tony was previously nursing.

Vodka.

And suddenly the harsh accent of alcohol from the older man's mouth enters Peter's nostrils.

He was inebriated, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Tony..." Peter mumbles, quiet and concerned.

There's no reaction from the older man. The words were obviously not heard.

And so Peter tries again.

"Mister Stark? Hey. _Hey_. Tony? _Tony."_

Tony's drunken arms flap down on the counter too hard, and with each turn of his head he is reminiscent of a horse under tranquilizer.

"How much have you drank? Hey, Mister - _shit."_

Even Tony's feet barely skimmed across the tiled floor and altogether his limbs bore the appearance of being too heavy for him, like he was personally struggling against far more gravity than Peter.

"Peter... it's over. SHIELD's over. The Avenger's program is fucked. I really screwed the pooch this time, hey?..." The last few syllables trail off into nothingness, lingering on the precipice leading to nowhere.

Peter can't stand this.

He strides forward, inching under Tony's arm as he carries his mentor to the fridge.

"You gotta drink some water, Tony. Please, man - you can't stay like this. This isn't healthy."

He pours the beverage into in a crisp glass, though Tony is much too far gone to notice.

Peter wonders what the hell was in his vodka.

Alchohol is one thing, though Tony looks as though he's enveloped in some drug-riddled nightmare.

"You didn't take any Tylenol, did you, Tony? You can't have that with alcohol. That ruins your liver, dude. Did - did you take anythi-"

Peter was talking to himself.

By this point Tony had become withdrawn, his personality sunken and enveloped in dark thoughts.

" _Why did I do this... why did... why did I do... why..."_ he repeats, over and over, an incessant barrage of self-deprecation that stings Peter's ears.

Thinking fast, Peter rushes to his feet. "I'm gonna get a bucket. Alright, Tony? Stay right there. I'll - be right back, okay!"

 **xxx**

The aching in Tony's skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, yet the pain is always there. He understands at once why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds are over his head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

There's a balloon under his cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting.

He opens his crust-riddled eyelids and sees Peter.

The teenager is slumped on one of Tony's bedside tables, sitting in what appears to be the cheapest chair in the room. There's a layer of dehydrated saliva that coated his cracked lips.

"Pete..."

The kid doesn't stir.

Perhaps Tony should leave him be.

The room swirled before becoming stationary again, and Tony used the bedstead to pull himself to a stand.

His brain felt like it would swell beyond the capacity of his skull and now his dehydration was too obvious to ignore. His stomach lurched and gurgled.

Perhaps some painkillers would help, too.

He raised his heavy eyelids half way only for them to fall shut.

Tony notes that it's sometime in the early hours of the morning.

Something had happened last night, yet he remembers none of it.

However, this is a common occurrence these days.

The nights are lonely.

Pepper was long gone.

Her departure was by all means expected, though the pain is an unbearable weight that Tony simply can't handle.

He could never blame her for leaving. Far too much danger has been directed at her since he first donned the Iron Man mantle.

Obadiah Stane had almost killed her, which is inexcusable in itself, but Tony made yet another stupid decision by purposefully letting his home address be known to the world.

Pepper almost died yet again, but she still did not leave.

However, the final straw was Alexandar Pierce.

She was being watched relentlessly. HYDRA knew who she was, where she lived - any piece of information that could be used against her.

As it turns out, she would have also been targetted when Pierce launched his attack on the Avengers.

She would have died.

Knowing that, she left.

Pepper Potts was ready to move on from this chapter of her life.

Tony nodded, placing a large sum of money in her bank account which she did not accept, and let her leave to pursue her own endeavors.

The Avengers?

They come and go here and there, though none stay in the Tower for too long.

They're angry at Tony. For throwing the team under the bus without their consent; for meddling in things Tony couldn't fully comprehend.

Again, Tony understands.

He can't hate them for what they're doing.

With the current situation, he can't hate anybody but himself.

Tony splashes cold water on his face just to feel something refreshing, instantly wishing he could wash his brain free of the toxins too. The mirror shows his eyes, no longer possessing the charm or clarity they once did, now a lattice of pink over the white.

"You're up, Mister Stark."

Tony turns and sees Peter standing in the bathroom doorway.

His eyes are droopy.

"You didn't have to stay, kid. I'm okay."

"Like hell you are. Do you know how many drugs you took last night?" Peter is absolutely fuming.

Tony's mouth drops. "I - what are you talking abou-"

Peter interjects. "I found the stash. How long have you been involved with that shit, Tony? Well!? _I can't believe this_..."

Tony's mind is reeling.

He suddenly remembers why these recent January nights have been naught but a black void, pulsating at the back of his scalp.

Tony remembers drinking until he can't stand anymore.

He remembers the drugs.

He remembers trying anything and everything to stop the pain and guilt.

"I..."

"You're pathetic. You know that, Tony? You're an absolute - I just - I really don't even know what the hell to make of someone like you."

Anger boiled deep in Peter's system, as hot as lava. It churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knows it's far too much to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he did not mean, or to express thoughts he's suppressed for weeks.

Peter knows he has to leave before he erupts even further in this furious state. Although he understands that this feeling will pass, he knows that he could truly, completely hurt Tony if he stays any longer.

And so he leaves. He escapes.

He bolts from the room, jamming earbuds deep into his ears. Music pours out, sounding like the most beautiful noise he'd ever heard. So he turns it up, shutting out the world around him as he swings away from Avengers Tower.

He allows the darkness he feels to swallow him whole, just for a while. The music feels as though it's flowing through his veins, calming him from head to toe.

Until the jarring noise of Iron Man's thrusters enter his eardrums.

 **"Peter. _Stop."_**

Reluctantly, the teenager releases his gripping on a biocable and lands on the roof of a desolate skyscraper.

Exhaling, tired and dazed, Peter decides to listen.

" **Those are the only things that drowned out the guilt I've been feeling. It's all I have left."**

"You have the Avengers. You have Pepper. You have your lab. You have everything you've always had."

" **...Pete. Peter. The higher-up's are dismantling everything. SHIELD is gone. They want the team to abide by an Accord."**

Peter shakes his head, rubbing the crusty sleep from his strained eyelids. "What Accord? I don't get it."

" **The Avengers Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United States panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary. This is all because of Pierce and how he almost single-handedly took control of the world after taking SHIELD; he would've succeeded if the Avengers were killed."**

"I don't... What's gonna happen? Are the others gonna agree to that?"

Tony's robotized voice exhales a belated sigh. " **I don't know. They haven't been contacting me lately. I dunno what's happening here on out."**

"What about Steve?"

 **"Actually, I have some news for you, straight from the Board."** Tony begins reciting the oncoming lines with an indignant, laughable tone of authority. **"Your contribution to the team has been noted amongst the Directors. Spider-Man has, of January 15th, been offered a spot in Steve Roger's STRIKE team, which will remain the leading defense for the world while the Avengers decide whether or not they wish to comply with the Accords."**

Peter is clueless. " _STRIKE?_ What's - I have no idea what that is, dude."

" **A rag-tag group of SHIELD's finest soldiers, Captain America included. They're treated with the utmost secrecy. You needa decide if you wanna go through with the offer or not."**

This information is overloading Peter's brain.

Avengers Accords.

STRIKE.

SHIELD.

An overwhelming possibility of change which is currently lingering over every single member of the Avengers.

Nobody is certain of what's to come.

" **Kid. The Avengers love you. You're our family,"** Tony is talking quietly. Peter knows for a fact that every single word escaping his mouth is the truth. " **For now, I think you should be on Iceblock's little team. He's alone, too. We're all alone. We needa deal with all the shit that's coming our way. We need to stay together."**

Tony's suit lands on the roof alongside Peter.

They remain silent for a moment, stationary, unsure of what to say or do.

Tony breaks the tension but enveloping Peter in a hug.

" **We love you."**

 **xxx**


End file.
